


Motorbikes and Sailboats

by WinchesterWarrenSon



Series: Motorbikes and Sailboats [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Relationship Recovery, Asexual Character, Autistic Dipper Pines, Canon Divergence - Roadside Attraction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Drama, M/M, Matchmaking, Mermaids, Post-Weirdmageddon, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Vampires, canon complaint, foxy merman au, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 73,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWarrenSon/pseuds/WinchesterWarrenSon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Road Rage. Despite no longer having to deal with Jimmy Snakes, Stan Pines keeps finding himself in troubling romantic and sexual situations of the life-threatening variety. Ford's solution is to match-make Stan with Fiddleford McGucket. Dipper and Mabel's solution is to match-make Stan with Frank "Spitfire" Pumberton - an old biker buddy of Stan's who helped with Weirdmageddon. There's a ship war brewing, but is Stan even ready for another relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not read Bike Race and Road Rage yet, I highly recommend reading those before this one, seeing as this is the third story in this continuity/universe/dimension. The jellyfish merman belongs to cirilee, and you can read all about him here: http://cirilee.tumblr.com/tagged/foxy-merman-au. My OCs are the Argentinian men Stan and Ford encounter and Spitfire and his daughter. I'll indicate who belongs to me and who belongs to someone else if they are not a canon character if any others are added. 
> 
> For those unaware, Jimmy Snakes IS a canon character, but the episode in which he would've been in was scrapped and never saw the light of day. You can see a reference to him and Stan's past as a biker in Stan's closet in Scary-oke. Bike Race was the first ever fan fic to be written for JimStan, and the abusive interpretation of Jimmy was the first to get popular. Jimmy has no set personality or morality alignment; all we know is that he's a biker friend of Stan's, seems to have been involved in illegal activity according to the notes on the sheet of paper he was drawn on, and is demon-possessed, Ghost Rider style. (The kitten nickname for Stan and kitten references in other fic and fan art got started by Bike Race as well, and I couldn't be prouder.) 
> 
> There is sexual assault in this first chapter. I will indicate which chapters have potentially triggering material in them in the beginning chapter notes.

Jimmy Snakes had disappeared after the end of Weirdmageddon. The evidence that he was still alive was the bike tire tracks that what was left of his old biker gang said was definitely his.

Ford and Stan and the kids refused to think much more about it other than that.

Soon the kids were back in California, Ford and Stan got their boating gear together, and right then, Jimmy Snakes was the least of Ford’s concerns.

Especially considering that right then he was trying to save his brother from the jellyfish merman thing that had swam up to their boat.

Ford had been in the cabin where they did Ford’s research and slept, and he had come out onto the deck to ask Stan a question, only to drop what he had been holding and rush to the edge of the boat.

The creature had Stan wrapped up in its thin tentacles. Stan’s eyes were glossed over, seemingly in some kind of trance, and the eyes of the sea creature were glowing.

“Put him down!”

The creature turned its head towards him, eyes still glowing, and Ford averted his eyes. He pulled out the electromagnetic gun he had on him and held it up.

“I’m warning you! Put him down now!”

“Pero mi bocadillo es muy adorable,” the creature said.

Ford had absolutely no idea what any of that meant, but it did suggest that perhaps the creature had no idea what he was saying. But surely he understood what a gun being pointed at you meant. Right?

“No! No bocadillo! Put man back on ship!” Ford said, speaking slowly.

The creature’s eyes stopped glowing, and the merman gave him a look that clearly told him the creature knew it was being treated like it couldn’t understand.

It slid its tentacle thing underneath Stan’s shirt, making it ride up his chest.

Ford couldn’t tell from there if it was causing Stan pain, but his facial expression indicated nothing other than the fact that he was under some kind of spell. And that he was being tricked into feeling dazed and happy-like.

The tentacle slid further up Stan’s body, clearing the collar of Stan’s shirt and caressing the edge of Stan’s jaw.

Ford set the gun to a setting that would stun the creature but not hurt Stan (too much) and aimed again.

“Last warning! Put him down or else!”

Ford’s eyes got distracted by movement, and he saw one of the creature’s slippery body parts slip past Stan’s belt, moving against both skin and fabric.

“ _Jimmy_ ,” Stan sighed, and Ford pulled the trigger.

The sea creature screeched in pain, and Stan yelled along with it a few seconds later.

The creature dropped Stan, and Stan landed onto the ship with a thud. His body continued to twitch as the sea creature went back over the edge of the boat and back into the water.

Ford ran to the edge of the boat and looked over, and he couldn’t see it anymore. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

He knelt by Stan, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right!?”

Stan shook his head, his body still twitching.

“I - I dunno, I - I feel really funny,” Stan said.

“Can you walk?”

Stan managed to get to his feet just fine, but Ford very soon realized he needed to help him to the cabin.

After getting Stan to take his shirt off and pull his pants and underwear down just enough so that Ford could see the damage, he concluded that Stan was being slowly administered a poison that would make him easier to eat by the sea creature (he’d need to think of a good name for it - jellyman? no that was stupid) and the hypnosis that was being administered was used to keep him still enough so that he could supply the poison without killing him too soon.

Ford held back on mentioning that the sea creature seemed to be getting off on the fact that it was manipulating Stan’s ability to consent. Ford wasn’t sure he was ready to have another conversation with Stan like that. It was hard enough hearing his brother already had a history with sexual abuse.

“Do you remember what was happening while he was hypnotizing you?” Ford asked. “Or what he was making you see?”

He had the journal out now that he had administered an antidote for jellyfish poisoning (which Ford could only hope was close enough to the creature’s poison to work), and he had a pen prepared to take notes.

Stan was red in the face as he pulled his pants back up.

“I … I could see and hear things that weren’t actually there, but I didn’t know they weren’t there at the time…. I got duped well enough that I couldn’t reason my way out of why it couldn’t be happening or why it shouldn’t happen…. If that means anything to ya….”

Ford wrote down what that communicated to him, but his eyes moved to watch Stan for a moment.

He was staring off to the side at the wall, frowning deeply.

“Stanley?”

“I think the antidote’s working,” Stan said.

“We should give it more time. No sleep for us tonight, I don’t think. I’ll put on some coffee.”

Ford couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how Stan had said Jimmy’s name.

He knew what the creature had made Stan see and think, knew what it had made Stan think was happening. His hands tightened on the coffee grounds container.

He was going to hunt that monster down and kill it himself. He didn’t care what it really was or how dangerous it was.

Ford came back after he put the coffee on.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Ford said.

Stan nodded in acknowledgement.

“The creature was speaking a different human language. It also used a word I think is the word adorable in English, but pronounced it a-dor-ah-bley instead.”

“What, like in Spanish?”

“Uh, yes? Is that how it’s said in Spanish?”

“What’d he say?”

Ford repeated what the creature had said the best he could. Stan made a face.

“‘But my snack is very cute.’ That’s what he was saying.”

Stan was pouting greatly.

“Wait, how do you know Spanish?”

“You pick up a few things while in Colombian prison.”

“Oh.”

That was one thing Stan and he hadn’t talked about at all. He knew nothing about Stan’s time in prison.

The coffee machine finished making the coffee, and Ford went to pour them mugs full of it.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dipper Pines had shown up on the first day of school, it had taken a moment or two for their classmates to realize that he wasn’t a new kid. It was all the biker outfit’s fault.

Dipper hadn’t exactly planned to wear it again, but the morning of the start of school came, and Dipper’s stomach was rolling with anxiety, and it was just hanging off of his desk chair.

Mabel wore her regular sweater and skirt and a cute hairband in her hair, and he was glad she hadn’t asked why he was wearing the outfit again.

Their parents were a little surprised, but Mr. and Mrs. Pines really didn’t pay them much attention anyway. Both of them worked, and they still hadn’t asked too many questions about their summer (or really listened when Mabel talked about everything they had done).

Teacher and classmates alike just stared at him as he entered the classroom and sat down in his assigned seat next to Mabel.

He could feel the eyes of the class bully on his back, but he had expected paper balls thrown at him or something for a while now, and nothing was happening.

Person by person, their How I Spent My Summer assignments were read aloud to the class, and eventually Dipper and Mabel’s turn came.

“So our summer was spent in Gravity Falls, Oregon, with our Grunkle Stan,” Mabel started. “At first it was kind of dull, but then things got a lot more interesting ‘cause Gravity Falls actually has a lot of weird stuff going on in it!”

“And it attracts weird stuff, too,” Dipper added.

“Like you,” came a mutter from someone in the class.

Dipper’s eyes narrowed into a glare, and the small spattering of giggles immediately died.

“We met some gnomes, a merman, a unicorn, faeries, manotaurs, a bear with multiple heads,” Mabel continued.

“Even a time-traveler, a monster from another dimension who wanted to destroy the Earth, a child psychic, and a demonic-possessed biker who wanted to eat our souls and steal our uncle’s heart.”

“But no matter what happened, we always won in the end and had each other’s backs. And we did a lot of family bonding with Grunkle Stan and his long-lost twin brother, Grunkle Ford!”

Mabel held up pictures she had brought with her, of them and Grunkle Stan and of Grunkle Ford and of Grenda and Candy and Pacifica and Gideon. There were even a few pictures of Jimmy Snakes from his very first visit, obviously from when Mabel had thought Jimmy would be a good match for Stan. There were gasps when Mabel shared pictures of Chutzpar and Multibear and the gnomes, and murmurs as Mabel explained the contexts of several of the photos.

Neither of them drew unneeded attention to who Jimmy was outside “and that’s the jerk who wanted to eat our souls,” and with everything else, it didn’t seem like anyone was willing to pay that much attention to a seemingly normal-looking biker dude.

“Yes?” Mabel said, pointing at a classmate with a hand up. Ordinarily, the teacher would’ve prevented question-and-answer time, but she had taken the picture of Multibear and had been staring at it with wide eyes for a while now. Dipper had a feeling she was trying to find evidence of photoshop and was failing.

“That’s my dad in that picture!”

Mabel and Dipper took a better look at the picture the classmate was pointing at. It was one of the last ones they took in Gravity Falls; Spitfire, Multibear, and everyone who was a part of the Cipher wheel were in the photograph.

“You mean Spitfire?” Dipper asked.

“The leather jacket maker guy?” Mabel said.

“Yeah! Daddy’s a tanner. His real name is Frank. He and I were spending the summer together until he got a call from an old friend and had to go to Oregon.”

“To help with the Apocalypse! Oh my gosh, he’s really your dad!? Your dad is really cool!”

Dipper had really grown to like Spitfire in the wake of post-Weirdmageddon. Spitfire had helped put the house back together and helped Stan and Ford with things and had even stuck around for their 13th birthday party when Dipper had asked if he’d like to be there for cake.

“What’s your name again?” Mabel asked, grinning along with Dipper and getting excited.

“Janice! Janice Pumberton. My assignment’s after yours.”

“Oh! Oh my gosh, where are our manners!? We’ve taken up way too much time, you go, you go, your turn!” Mabel said, quickly grabbing the picture of Multibear from the teacher, then rushing herself and Dipper to their seats.

Both twins were on the edge of their seat, eager to learn more about Spitfire and their apparent new friend.

Janice got up in front of the class. Her hair was dark like her dad’s, and her cheeks flushed even redder than they normally were with nervousness.

“W-well, it wasn’t the Apocalypse or anything as interesting as Gravity Falls apparently was, but this summer was the first time I had seen my dad since I was seven years old. My parents had gotten divorced when my mom found out that my dad liked men, and she had never let me see him. But recently, Mom had a change of heart, so I got to spend almost the whole summer with him. Daddy’s a tanner when at work, but in his free time, he’s a biker. He showed me how his bike works and how he takes care of it, and we went on a lot of nice rides around town and to other cities.”

Janice summarized a lot of sweet, cool stuff she and her dad had done up to the point where Jimmy must’ve called Spitfire up and asked him for help.

“Even though I wished I could have spent more time with him, I didn’t feel like he was blowing me off. He made it sound like whoever had called had really needed his help for something really important. And now that I know where he went, I know for sure that he had helped a lot of people. It’s a little scary to think about my dad being out in the apocalypse, but everything’s fine now and he’s safe, and I’m just so glad I get to know my dad.”

Mabel was moved to tears by the story, and Dipper was smiling fondly.

Honestly, while Jimmy had been such a bad seed and had made Dipper feel gross for having anything to do with the biker thing, Spitfire was just such a good guy and he was sweet and just look at how happy he had made his daughter and he liked dudes and -

Wait.

Janice had gone to sit down, and the next student went up, and Dipper quickly scribbled a note and flipped it onto Mabel’s desk. It was ridiculous to do so in the front row, but the teacher still seemed to be having problems concentrating.

Mabel unfolded it and read what Dipper had written.

_Match-make Stan and Spitfire? Yes or No?_

It took all of Mabel’s self-control not to squeal in delight. She circled yes repeatedly and surrounded it by hearts.

The moment they had a free moment, they went to Janice.

“I don’t know if we formally introduced ourselves, but I’m Mabel!” 

“And I’m Dipper! It’s great to meet you!”

“And we were wondering if -”

“- you had thought about -”

“- your dad and another person -”

“- since your parents aren’t together -”

“- and if he’s seeing somebody or -”

“- if he’s single and you’d like to change that!”

“‘Cause your dad and our Grunkle Stan know each other and -”

“Grunkle Stan likes boys too and -”

“- and we were thinking that they’d be great together and we were -”

“- hoping you’d think so too!”

Janice laughed.

“You two are crazy! I haven’t even met your uncle!”

“We’ll have to fix that then!” Mabel said. Dipper nodded rapidly.

“Stan and Ford are on a boating trip right now, but we can arrange something!” Dipper said. “Your dad really is awesome, by the way.”

“Heehee, thanks…. Hey, do you two wanna have lunch together?”

“Sure!”

And that’s how the Pines Twins became friends with Janice Pumberton, daughter of Frank Pumberton, a.k.a. Spitfire the Biker.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Implied prostitution. 
> 
> Spanish grammar edited by http://trashofdoom.tumblr.com/, a NICE, POLITE person whose help I am very grateful for.

They had gone back inland to collect supplies and a few other things. It had been a few months since the attack of the merman/siren/jellyfish-man thing, and Ford’s notes on the creature were minimal and frustrating. As much as he wanted to kill the thing, he was additionally annoyed that he knew so little about it. All he had to go on was that Stanley now had super thin scars where the tentacles had touched him and that regular jellyfish poison antidote worked just fine as a jellyfish-man antidote.

Stanford didn’t even know if the jellyfish-man was a type of mermaid or if he was a siren. Ford was pretty sure mermaids and sirens were different creatures, and he was pretty sure sirens had to sing in order to put you under their spell. The jellyfish-man hadn’t been singing. If anything, he had been deathly quiet and Ford almost hadn’t noticed anything else was on the boat with them.

Ford was also assuming he actually knew anything of the jellyfish-man’s gender. Flat chest in mammalian species did indicate the male gender, but he was unsure if a jellyfish-man could be considered a mammal. If it wasn’t one but just appeared to look like it was half of one, then a flat upper torso indicated absolutely nothing.

Stanford Pines hated uncertainty, and he hated being in the dark. He needed to find the jellyfish-man, both to study him and to make him pay for hurting his brother.

Ford poured over his notes while he drank the hard stuff at the bar he and Stanley had entered after gathering their supplies and putting them back onto the boat.

Stanley’s surprise Spanish skills were coming quite in handy now that they had gone passed Mexico and were getting closer and closer to rounding about the end of South America and going further into Arctic waters. Chile and Argentina were the closest countries where they could get more supplies from, so Stanley handled communicating with the locals. His word-choice and accent seemed to tell people that they were light-skinned Colombians when he’d speak, but then they’d realize Ford couldn’t speak any Spanish and had to adjust their assumptions.

Ford was trying to learn, and his background in Latin did help some with learning the language, but most of his foreign languages were not spoken in this dimension, and occasionally his brain got confused and would say a word that meant fishing lure but sounded like he was having a stroke. And that was always embarrassing, and he tended to just abandon the conversation whenever that happened and hide behind Stanley or hide his face in a book or newspaper.

It was just easier sometimes to let Stanley handle the communicating and focus on his work.

The bartender thankfully spoke English, so Ford didn’t have any problems with asking for what he wanted.

“So what’s an American like you doing down here?” the bartender eventually asked.

“I’m a scientist. My brother and I are observing anomalies in the Arctic.”

The bartender leaned over and saw his sketch of the jellyfish-man. Ford wasn’t sure if the man knew what the word anomaly was in English, and Ford certainly had no idea what the Spanish word for it was.

The bartender suddenly started talking loudly in Spanish at other patrons, and Ford turned his head and saw that the bartender was preventing a public display of human mating.

And that was when Ford realized what kind of bar this was.

Stanley had found them a gay bar.

This didn’t bother Stanford at first. No one was bothering him, probably because they saw he was absorbed in his work and was ignoring everyone but the bartender. No one was hitting on him or making him uncomfortable, so there was nothing to worry about.

But then the fact started to sink in, and he looked around and saw that he couldn’t find Stanley anywhere.

He turned back to the bartender.

“Did you see where my brother went?”

He had thought Stanley was still nearby, but….

“He disappeared around the bathroom forty minutes ago,” the bartender said.

Ford put the money for the drinks onto the bar, then took his journal with him as he headed for the bathroom.

“You might not want to go,” the bartender called after him, but he paid it no mind.

He didn’t feel comfortable with Stanley being alone in a strange place with strange people who might want to get into his pants.

The image of Jimmy backhanding Stan so hard he lost consciousness and blood was on the wall was still burned into his brain, and he remembered the eyes of the jellyfish-man.

No, he didn’t trust anyone with Stanley.

When Ford pushed the bathroom door open, for some reason the lights were off. He felt around for a light switch, but froze when he heard the sounds of gagging.

“Stanley!?”

Ford found the light switch, and he flipped it on, then -

“Turn that back off!” said Stanley, his voice sounding a little odd. Like he didn’t have his dentures in.

“Why!?”

Then Ford saw why, and he screamed a bit before turning the light back off.

“¿Quién es ese?”

“Mi estupido hermano.”

“H-hey, I know that last one! I’m not stupid!”

Ford’s face was burning red, but no one could see it in the dark.

He could hear movement, Stanley getting to his feet and the zipping up of a pant zipper.

“You can turn the light on now,” Stanley said, his voice sounding normal.

His dentures were back in his mouth when Ford flipped the switch.

The stranger in the bathroom looked to be around their age, perhaps older. But clearly not experiencing erectile dysfunction.

Very, very clearly not.

Ford could feel how much his face was burning.

“ _What the hell were you doing that in a public bathroom for_?”

“Newsflash, Poindexter, men who have sex tend to do it wherever they can manage it.”

The stranger said something in Spanish, and Stanley replied. Probably some kind of explanation as to what was happening, but Ford didn’t care.

“Well, we are _leaving_ right now, and that’s all there is to it!”

“… What, you didn’t need to use the john, you were just gonna babysit me or something?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to use _this_ bathroom if I do have to use it, now am I?”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed, said some kind of goodbye in Spanish, then out the bathroom and the bar they went.

Ford couldn’t help the fact that he’s stomping and storming, and Stanley trailed behind him quietly. They reached the boat, and Ford couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

“You were using condoms at least, right!?”

Stan was quiet.

“ _Stanley_ , he was a complete stranger! And what if he hadn’t been human!?”

What if you were in danger and I had been too absorbed in my work and what if he had taken you away and I never saw you again? What if you caught some kind of horrible disease from him and you died from it? What if - !?

“I can take care of myself, Ford.”

Stanley walked away towards the cabin on the ship, his hand moving back to his back pocket and pulling out a wallet that was not his own.

Ford suddenly felt very out of place on his own ship.

He didn’t ask where the wallet had come from or whose it had been before they shipped off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Sexual content, implied prostitution.

Thanksgiving was approaching, and Dipper and Mabel had wanted them to visit them in California for the holiday, so Stan and Ford stopped in at Argentina once more to get enough supplies to last them until the next convenient spot to stop further up the continent. Preferably North America, but they’d see. With any luck, they might not have to stop until they reached the United States.

Stan had looked through his wallet and frowned at what he had found, then told Ford he would meet back up with him in a moment.

Ford hadn’t paid enough attention to him at the time.

But then Ford had paid for what he needed, not minding that they’d have to find a way to rustle up more money when they got to California (he could always call McGucket to wire them some money).

And Stanley wasn’t back.

Ford stepped out of the store.

“Stanley?” Ford called.

But all he saw was a sea of faces of various degrees of brown. No Jewish man in a red-knitted winter hat.

He tried not to panic, but his thoughts went to the jellyfish man they encountered in the more northern waters and Jimmy Snakes and the various monsters they had encountered during their Arctic trip, and he couldn’t help it.

“Stanley! STANLEY!”

He didn’t know Spanish nearly as well as Stan did. He didn’t know how to ask someone to help him find his brother, and he couldn’t determine if he had time to find someone who spoke English. There was no time if Stan had been taken away - !

He had almost missed it, but as he was dashing around the immediate shopping area, he swore he heard the faint sound of Stan laughing. He doubled back and tried to discern where it was coming from.

He found himself standing at the mouth of a narrow alley, the shadows curtaining inward.

He couldn’t actually see what was happening down in the alley. Ford moved his hand onto his gun holster and took his first few cautious steps into the alley.

Then he heard Stan laughing again, and he broke into a run.

He could tell he was getting closer because Stan’s laughter was getting louder, but now Ford was able to tell that it sounded a bit off. It set off the alarm bells in his head, and he quickened the pace.

He took out the flashlight he carried in his pocket and turned it on to make sure he didn’t trip over anything.

How long was this alley?

Ford reached the end - and Stan with it - but Stanley wasn’t alone.

Ford’s initial reaction was to cover his eyes and curse his luck - seriously, how many times did a man have to walk in on his brother having sexual-ish relations? - but then his nose picked up a strong whiff of blood.

Mentally berating himself into being “a big boy” and dealing with the discomfort that came with witnessing his twin getting felt up, he turned his eyes back onto the scene before him.

He turned the flashlight up so he could see their shoulders and heads better, and he found the source of the bleeding.

Sharp fangs glistened with his brother’s blood and - _was this the same guy Stan sucked off at the gay bar_?

Ford didn’t bother to stop to think about this.

Ford shot first and wasn’t planning on asking questions.

The vampire made a gargling sound as he went down, bits of Stan’s blood flecking onto Stan’s shirt and the ground.

“ _What the hell, Ford_!?”

Ford just grabbed Stan’s sleeve and pulled him along, and Stan had the choice of follow or have his arm yanked out of its socket.

Stan chose following, though he clearly wasn’t happy.

“The hell’s the matter with you!? You’re lucky he paid beforehand or that’d be for nothing!”

“ _Excuse me_!? I better not have heard that right, Stanley!”

Ford wasn’t sure where they were when they stopped running, but they were in the sunlight again, and Ford tried to look at Stan’s neck wound, but Stan refused. Stan stormed right past him, heading for the boat.

Ford followed, and neither stopped until they were standing on the boat and headed for the cabin. The first aid kit was in there anyway.

“Stanley - !”

“What!?”

Ford stood there on the deck, his gun still in his hand. His hand was shaking, but the gun was pointed at the deck, not at anyone. If it did go off, all it’d do is either damage the ship or his foot.

“Why can’t you take care of yourself better?”

Stan stopped, halfway through the doorway into the cabin.

“I - I might’ve had an inkling that you … that you … . But whatever money you get out of … it isn’t worth your life or safety. Or your health.”

Stanley didn’t say anything at first. So Ford continued.

“And a vampire? _Really_? He could’ve killed you! Did you know he was a vampire when you first met him?”

“I kinda gathered from the pointy teeth, yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you say something back at the bar!?”

“Huh?”

Stan turned around and gave him a raised eyebrow.

“What’re you talking about? I hadn’t seen that guy before today. I figured I could get a decent amount of cash out of him _because_ of how he was staring at my jugular and with his teeth are glinty like ‘I vant to suck your blood’.”

“B-but that was the guy from the gay bar!”

Stan gave him a deadpan look.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yes! Stanley - !”

“The guy at the bar was named Juan. That vampire said his name was Esteban.”

“But they looked like - !”

“The same guy?” Stan said, looking like he was cringing a little. “For fuck’s sake, Ford.”

“What? _What_? What’d I do?”

They did look the same! How was he supposed to know!?

Stan just ignored him and continued into the cabin to fix up his neck.

Flustered and blushing, Ford yelled after him, “And next time, just ask Fiddleford for money! No more selling your body! In any shape or form!”

Stan didn’t give him an answer.

This would be something they couldn’t tell the kids when they came to visit.


	5. Chapter 5

Stan and Ford would be staying with them for a few days during Thanksgiving Break, so while Thanksgiving would be a day where all their friends would be busy, the day before and after Thanksgiving were free days they weren’t in school for, so Mabel and Dipper arranged it with Janice that she’d come over on the first day Stan and Ford would be visiting.

Janice hadn’t had time to tell Spitfire that she was going to be meeting Stan and Ford or that they’d be in the area, but that was all right with Mabel and Dipper. The important thing was that Janice could meet Stan and determine for herself if Stan would be a good love match for her dad.

Dipper wore his Bigfoot sweater that Mabel had knitted for him last year, and Mabel had knitted herself a turkey sweater.

Janice arrived first, dressed in a cute pink sweater, skirt, and grey tights with cute shoes.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so cute!” Mabel cheered, and Janice blushed a little.

“So are you,” Janice said.

They played some games while they waited for Stan and Ford to arrive, Dipper and Mabel’s parents both at work at the moment. Then the doorbell rang, and Dipper and Mabel launched themselves off the couch and ran to the door.

They opened it and -

“GREAT-UNCLE FORD! GRUNKLE STAN!”

The twins attacked their grunkles with hugs, both old men grabbing a twin and pulling them close.

“How’re you doing, kids!?” Ford asked as he walked him and Mabel back into the house.

“We’re great! We have a friend over, too! Janice, c’m’over here!”

Janice walked into the hallway, her hands nervously twisting the bottom of her sweater.

“H-hello,” Janice said.

“Janice, this is Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford! Grunkles, this is our friend Janice from school!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Janice,” Ford said.

“Same here!” Stan said.

Janice smiled at them and nodded.

“She’s a little shy! We were playing Shoots and Ladders until you guys got here!”

“Dipper, I love your sweater. Did Mabel make it?”

“Yeah! She made two for you and Grunkle Stan, too!”

“Lemme go grab them real quick! Then we can talk about lunch!”

The rest of the day was dedicated to grilled cheese sandwiches and board games and story time, the kids catching the men up on their school lives and how they met Janice and the old men telling them about all the monsters and adventures they got up to - leaving out the age-inappropriate material. (The children didn’t need to know about Stan’s prostitution or the jellyfish man’s attempt at raping and eating Stan.)

When Janice shared that she was Spitfire’s daughter, Mabel watched as Stan’s eyes lit up a bit more.

“Really? So you’re that sweet little girl he wouldn’t stop talking about! How’s your dad been?”

“Pretty good. I haven’t been allowed to see him since Halloween, but I get to spend Christmas with him. So how do you know my dad, again?”

“Well, I was in the same gang as him back when he first started being a biker. Uh, how much do you know about those days?”

“Which gang was it?”

Stan fed her the name, and she then shook her head.

“He doesn’t talk about that one. Only that there was this Jimmy Snakes guy who was really scary and who asked him to do some bad things he wasn’t proud of….”

Stan gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, your dad was still one of the nicest, kindest guys I knew back then. He’d never do anything actually bad, even if Jimmy asked him to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Ford had started to frown, and Dipper and Mabel both didn’t know quite what to do at the mention of Jimmy. There was an awkward silence (well, awkward for Ford, Dipper, and Mabel) after that, then Stan stood up.

“You guys want anything else to drink?”

“There’s Mabel Juice in the fridge,” Mabel said.

“And soda,” Dipper added.

“I’ll have a Mabel Juice,” Ford said.

Stan shuddered.

“Get the Mabel Juice yourself, I’m not having a hand in killing your kidneys.”

Ford and Mabel both stuck their tongues out at Stan, then Ford got up to get the juice himself. Stan grabbed sodas for him, Dipper, and Janice.

The conversation shifted after that, and soon they were playing various board games and watching TV until Janice’s mother showed up to pick her up.

Dipper and Mabel saw her to the door, and Mabel hugged her goodbye.

Dipper tilted his head a bit, wondering why Janice was blushing so much.

“Bye, Janice!”

“See you at school!”

“Bye, Mabel, Dipper. Oh, by the way,” Janice then lowered her voice. “I really like your grunkle. I think he’s perfect.”

Mabel’s face lit up like a crystal chandelier, and the grin stayed on her face even as the door closed and Janice left.

Dipper gave Mabel a knowing smile. Mabel could barely hold her excitement in.

“Dipperrrrrrr!!!!”

“I know, I know, Operation Match-make is a go,” Dipper said, patting her on the shoulder.

They went back into the living room to spend more time with Stan and Ford until their parents came home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: discussion of eugenics, depressing aspects of what it means to be autistic. (Can you tell I wrote this chapter during Autism Awareness/Acceptance Month?) Some of the information that Dipper prattles on about actually wasn't released until this year (2016) and the fic takes place in 2013, but eh, whatever.

At some point during their Thanksgiving visit, the topic of the vampire showed up. It was Stanley who brought it up, and Ford had been in the other room and missed the trigger to the conversation, but he came back into the room to hear Stanley telling the kids that he hadn’t been able to tell two different Argentinian men apart.

“In my defense, it was a dark alley, I was worried sick about you, and the first guy had been just as shady!” Ford said, flushing a bright pink.

He hadn’t told Stanley - they had just been pretending the situation had never happened - but sometimes the incident crawled back into his head and would hiss at him: “You didn’t like it when people thought you were bad because of your fingers, did you really think they were bad just because of how they looked?”

But reason caught up with him. No. He did have a good reason to not like them. They had targeted Stanley for impure reasons: a dick sucking and a blood sucking. The fact that they were Argentinian had just been an unrelated fact connected to their location. Everyone except him and Stan were Argentinian, it was a statistical circumstance.

He hadn’t been suspicious of everyone, just distrustful of the two only men in their entire visits to the Argentinian shore who put Stanley in danger.

And he certainly didn’t want the kids to think he was a bad person.

However, the children were seeming to have a different reaction to the information entirely.

Dipper looked like he might explode from excitement, and Mabel was giving Dipper a knowing look and a smile.

“Great-Uncle Ford, Great-Uncle Ford, why didn’t you tell us you were faceblind!?”

“I’m … what?”

“Faceblind!”

Mabel climbed onto the back of the couch to look at Ford better.

“Dipper’s autism means that he can’t actually tell faces apart, so he relies on hair accessories, clothes, and general body shape. When we were little, he’d get lost in the grocery store all the time because he ended up following the wrong lady around for, like, twenty minutes, ‘cause he thought she was our mom.”

“But I’m not -”

But before he could finish his sentence, Dipper had raced up the stairs. They could hear him thumping around in his and Mabel’s room, then the sound of him running into the wall instead of through the doorway, then him correcting himself and running back down the stairs. When he emerged, he had all these papers and books in his arms. He rushed over to Ford and handed them to him, and Ford took them, though mostly because it looked like a lot for someone of Dipper’s size to carry.

“I have all these reading material with a bunch of information on symptoms and autistic habits and behaviors and social experiences, and you don’t really have to go to a doctor ‘cause it’s actually pretty easy to self-diagnose so unless you wanted resources or help from the government or something, you can just research it and decide for yourself, and there’s a really useful community online on places like Tumblr, but I’d avoid organization websites. I mean, Autistic Self Advocacy Network is supposed to be good, but I’ve found a personal blog that really doesn’t like it due to personal reasons, so who knows, but they’re DEFINITELY better than places like Autism Speaks and Autistica in the UK - which actually is part of Autism Speaks - but anyway -”

Dipper talked a mile a minute, and Ford wasn’t entirely sure he was following what he was saying.

“Ever since his diagnosis, he’s been kinda obsessed with it,” Mabel said, still smiling. It was one of those smiles you gave when you were really happy someone had found someone else to identify with.

“Dipper, I … I really don’t think -” Ford started to say, but Dipper wasn’t listening.

“And it’d be so cool if you were, ‘cause then I’d know an actual other autistic off of the Internet, and you’re over forty!”

“W-why does me being over forty mean anything?” Ford asked.

“Well - um -”

And Dipper’s excitement petered off rather suddenly, and all three of them could see the typical signs of anxiety set in. Dipper started fidgeting and ducking his head a bit, his lips pressed together and his eyes focusing on a point in the room to Dipper’s upper right.

“Dipper?” Mabel piped up, and Dipper fidgeted a bit more.

“I, uh, I wasn’t really planning on telling Mabel that factoid,” Dipper said.

“What factoid?” Mabel, Ford, and Stan said at the same time.

Dipper shuffled his feet, and ducked his head to stare at them.

He mumbled it under his breath at first, and Ford couldn’t hear it at all.

“I didn’t catch that.”

Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head back up to make eye contact with Ford.

“Some studies say that … well, I don’t know if the percentage is accurate because I could only find one source that actually gave one … and I might just be misremembering -”

Ford nodded to encourage Dipper to get to the point. Dipper took another breath, then blurted it all out.

“There was a study that said that a frighteningly large number of autistics will never see the age of 40 due to things like epilepsy, suicide, murder, drowning, stuff like that,” and then Dipper quickly shifted to sound happier, because he was now focusing on Ford, “but you’re sixty-something and have fought monsters and are exploring the Arctic and saved the world from the Apocalypse and are still here!”

Any desire to tell Dipper that he was very sure he was not autistic left Ford at that.

“It’ll take me some time to read over all of this, but I’ll look into it,” Ford found himself saying, despite not feeling comfortable with the idea of being … neurologically different.

The grin on Dipper’s face made Ford smile, and he decided that any discomfort he had with the idea was worth it.

“Is it possible to be face-blind without being autistic?” Stan asked.

“Probably. From what Dipper’s doctor said, autism seems to kinda just be a bunch of behaviors and symptoms all in one person?” Mabel said. “‘Cause I do some stuff that Dipper does, but I’m not. Trust me, the doctor that tested Dipper tested me too. Insurance was good that year.”

“Wait, if you can’t tell people apart, then how do you know for sure who you’re talking to?” Stan asked.

“The longer I spend time around people, the easier it is to tell them apart and pick up on things in their face that make it easy, but if I’ve first met a whole bunch of people, they all run together. But then there are really, really distinctive people, like Gideon or McGucket, who I could recognize several feet down the street.” Dipper said. 

“And it helps if people wear something everyday, like Robbie’s hoodie!” Mabel said.

“Huh. So how do you make sure it’s me or not?” Stan asked, smiling and genuinely curious.

“You’ve got that gargoyle shape, especially when you’re tired,” Dipper said.

“ _Gargoyle_ shape?”

Ford and Mabel both laughed.

“Yeah, like this!”

And Dipper hunched his shoulders up, then slouched over, and Mabel lost it. She laughed harder than before and fell off the couch.

Stan pretended to be annoyed, but then laughed along too.

Ford’s reading into the topic extended to their boating trip, and Dipper had said that it was perfectly all right for Ford to take the books and papers. (”I can print off new ones if I need them, and you can give the books back when you visit again!”)

But the more Ford read, the more uncomfortable he was.

Dipper had made his own notes and crossed out things, so Ford couldn’t make out what was underneath some of the scribbles, but a lot of Dipper’s notes were criticizing wording and phrases that were genuinely eugenic in nature. It made him uneasy that Dipper had thrown himself into a topic where there was so much discussion of eugenics and torture and persecution and talk of mental institutions at his age.

And he did not feel like “autism” was a good fit for himself. He did not relate to most of the material in front of him, even if a few things did stand out as relevant. The faceblindness thing, the more Ford thought about it, might actually apply to him, and he had problems with socializing. He even recognized some of the behaviors as being something Stanley did; Stanley playing with the paddle ball could potentially be a stimming behavior. But there was so much in there and so little he identified with. It gave him an initial sense of relief that there wasn’t something wrong with him, but then the guilt that came with thinking of Dipper’s condition as something “wrong” with him was much stronger than that relief. And then there was guilt over somehow letting Dipper down.

“You doing okay?” Stanley asked.

“I don’t think I can be that over-forty hero Dipper wants,” Ford said dejectedly. “I may be where he gets the faceblindness the more I consider the option, but most of this is just … words on a page about someone else.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I did try to help Mabel temper his expectations a bit. And he’s a reasonable kid. He probably won’t be crushed.” 

“I just feel bad that I’m not and he has all of these … sources telling him that him and people like him won’t live for very long and that a lot of them … don’t want him to.”

“… Lemme look at some of that.”

“He has a list of probably-autistic individuals in history, and while many of them are intelligent and brilliant … Alan Turing killed himself, Tom Wiggins was a slave even after the Civil War and treated and marketed as a freak. There’s Albert Einstein on there and Thomas Jefferson, but then there’s this other list he has and it’s just a bunch of children who were murdered by their parents with the dates next to them….”

“… Does his parents know he has this?”

“I - I don’t know….”

Stan dropped the papers he was holding the moment he noticed that Ford was starting to cry. Ford tried to hold it in, but when Stan put his hand on his shoulder, he couldn’t.

“Hey, it’s okay. Dipper’s fine, everything’s okay.”

“No, it’s not - ! He has all of this and it’s all about people like him, and there’s so much - so much stuff and people trying to kill people like him and - ! He’s only thirteen, and all this info would mess up anybody!”

“He’s a tough kid, and he knows we’ll always look after him. And there’s no way his parents are like these ones,” Stan said, holding up the list of filicide cases.

“He deserves to feel loved and valued, and all of this is telling him he’s not!”

Ford’s voice turned angry, but it wasn’t directed at Stan, and Stan knew it.

“He’s such a good, clever boy, and - and I love him and Mabel more than anything in the whole world, and it hurts to know that he has to deal with all of this bullshit!”

It hurt to know this, it hurt to know that Stan didn’t take proper care of himself, that Stan would just throw himself into dangerous situation after dangerous situation just for money that Ford could easily get from Fiddleford, it hurt to even think that anyone would want to hurt Dipper or Mabel or Stan.

It hurt to know that people thought this poorly of his family, and he hated it, he hated all of it.

“You wanna call ‘em up and listen to how their school went today?” Stan asked.

“Yes,” Ford said, sniffing and wiping his face.

Stan then went to the phone/radio they had on their ship, then brought it over to Ford and handed it to him.

The children were happy and excited to hear from them, and Ford made himself smile and only share good, positive things.

He wasn’t willing to tell Dipper just yet that he thought Investigation Autistic Ford was a negative, but the boy was just happy to talk to him.

Mabel had so many good things to say about things she and Janice had been doing in art class, and Ford was just so happy they were happy and making friends.


	7. Chapter 7

Since they had seen the twins at Thanksgiving, there were no plans to visit for Hannukah, though both Stan and Ford intended to ship them presents for all eight days.

“No, Stanley, you can’t steal their presents.”

“But-!”

“We have the money, we’ll buy them like a normal person.”

“But isn’t the money for the research?”

“Fiddleford has no problem funding whatever we need it for.”

But Stanley still was frowning as Ford took out the wallet and used what was definitely Fiddleford’s money to pay for the gifts they had selected in the country they were currently visiting.

Every time they stopped for supplies, they got a gift for the twins until they had eight for both of them, seven small things each and one big thing they’d have to share because Ford couldn’t help himself.

So that took a few weeks, and Stanley’s frown when Ford used Fiddleford’s money for it got deeper the more Ford did it.

“If it bothers you that much, why don’t we just call Fiddleford up and ask if he’s all right with it?” Ford asked after he purchased the big gift - an unreasonably large mini-statue replica of one of the Moai Statues. It was essentially the length of Ford’s torso, and Stan had the sneaking suspicion Ford wanted it but was using the kids as an excuse to buy it since there wasn’t room on the ship for it.

Stan agreed to call Fiddleford, but the look he was giving Ford was still very critical and was reminding Ford of the looks their father would give their mother when she made purchases Filbrick didn’t agree with.

Stan also made Ford carry the statue entirely by himself, and Ford dealt with that.

His back wasn’t a fan of himself by the time they got to the post office to ship the thing, and it still didn’t like him by the time they got to the ship to make the Skype call.

“Hello, Fiddleford!” Ford said.

“Why hello, Stanford! Stanley! What’s the occasion? Need more money?”

“No!” Stan answered in a rush.

Ford looked over at Stanley and noticed that he had tensed rather a lot just from the question.

“Stan’s right, we’re perfectly fine for now, your last grant will keep us taken care of for a while. We just wanted to give you an update, and Stanley wanted to ask you something.”

Stan crossed his arms and looked away from the computer.

“Well, you can ask me anything! I’m all ears!”

Stan’s face was firmly set at annoyed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Stanley?” Ford asked.

Stan’s eyes glanced at him for a split second before looking back at the wall to Stan’s right.

“Stanley?”

“If you’re so confident we’re not gonna get in trouble, you ask him,” Stan said.

Ford stared at Stanley for a moment, rather surprised that Stan was _worried_ they’d get in trouble with Fiddleford. It was _Fiddleford_. Fiddleford was kind and understanding and incredibly forgiving, even of things he probably shouldn’t have forgiven Ford for. Fiddleford wasn’t going to be angry at them for spending his money on gifts for the children.

“Stanley’s been concerned that I’ve been spending the money improperly, but the grant is for the research and our needs, such as food, right, Fiddleford?”

“Yep! It’s for whatever you need!”

“W-well -” Stan started, but then he stopped, and Ford waited for him to continue, but then he never did.

“Stanley, are you all right?” Fiddleford asked.

“I’m fine,” Stan said, and it wasn’t his best lie.

“So the purchases that spurred this on was the gifts I bought for the kids for Hannukah,” Ford explained, and he could feel Stan tensing beside him, as though he was preparing himself for Fiddleford to blow up at them.

“Oh fun! I don’t know much about Hannukah outside of what you told me, Stanford, but that’s a perfectly fine use of the money! You don’t worry about a thing, Stanley, I’m just happy to help you two be able to bring smiles to those darlin’ kids’ faces! Now, are you two eating enough? Got enough supplies? First aid kits?”

Ford laughed a bit.

“Yes, we have enough of all of those things, Fiddleford.”

“And how is the research going?”

Ford got to talking about his monsters and anomalies, and Stanley stayed seated next to him. He at some point brought his hand to his head and rested it in his palm. Fiddleford asked additional questions about the creatures Ford was studying, and Ford answered in detail, and Stanley started to zone out at a point or two.

“Well, we should let you go,” Ford said. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Never too busy for a call from the Pines family!”

“It’s really okay for us to buy frivolous stuff like that?” Stan blurted out.

It took Ford by surprise, but along with the question came a memory from when they were children and Ma had given them pocket money.

Filbrick had always made money out to be this sacred, non-renewable resource, and the idea that they were being given money to spend on anything while they were in New York City for the first time had seemed too good to be true.

Fiddleford seemed surprised by the question, but he smiled at him.

“Of course it is. It’s not frivolous if it makes you happy.”

Ford smiled just from hearing Fiddleford say that, but then he watched Stanley’s reaction to it, and the smile widened, even if it was a bit of a sad smile.

Stanley was tearing up and was doing a good job of hiding it. Fiddleford probably didn’t notice since the Skype video quality wasn’t that good.

“Thanks,” Stan said, his voice not betraying his feelings, though it was still thick with gratitude.

“It’s my pleasure,” Fiddleford said. “Goodbye now!”

“Goodbye, Fiddleford.”

Ford then ended the call and turned his body more towards Stanley.

“See? Everything’s fine.”

Stan grunted, then stood up and went off into the kitchen area.

Ford hung back, then got up and peeked at Stan from the doorway.

Stan put the kettle on for the instant coffee, and his shoulders were shaking as he tried to keep himself together.

Ford knew Stan didn’t want him watching him cry, so he left him alone and went to pour over his journal.

He would assume Stan was just relieved he wouldn’t have to prostitute himself out anymore or ever again and leave the topic be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original draft of this chapter had Soos at the bus stop as well, but I had forgotten and had Soos meet Spitfire and Janice later on in the story, and the later meet-and-greet is honestly written better, so I took Soos out of this chapter entirely. So for those of you who have read this before on Tumblr, that's why he's not in this chapter anymore. 
> 
> Also, Dipper's autism and eating disability are two DIFFERENT conditions. The eating disability is NOT part of the autism. Some autistics might have different dietary preferences due to sensory issues, but the eating disability means that Dipper literally cannot swallow most foods. The eating disability prevents Dipper from eating most things, and it has nothing to do with Dipper's sensory issues. But the two conditions can work together to create stress-induced vomiting. Just for future reference.
> 
> Spanish edits done by: http://trashofdoom.tumblr.com/

It was summer by the time Stan and Ford started to head back to Oregon, to visit the kids but also see Soos and Wendy and Fiddleford and their other friends in Gravity Falls. Not that Stan and Ford themselves had that many friends, but they were still town heroes, and many of the townsfolk would be happy to see them.

Before starting to make the journey around South America to follow the North American coast back to Oregon, they stopped in at Argentina as they tended to do to get supplies.

Ford had been picking up on Argentinian Spanish dialect by this point and could carry on a decent conversation about fishing lures and boating equipment with the shop keeper.

Stan recognized Esteban from the window, then quickly darted outside.

He hoped the apology gift he had gotten for the man would make up for it.

Esteban nearly jumped out of his own skin when he realized who it was who was trying to get his attention.

“Lo siento por mi hermano,” Stan said quickly, not wanting to make a scene or have him run away and not wanting this to take too long or Ford would notice he had wandered off again. “Quiero que tengas esto.”

He then pulled a clear bag out from his jacket. It was still cold from its time in the freezer on the ship.

Esteban took it, then sniffed it, to make sure it was what he thought it was.

“Gracias,” Esteban said.

“De nada. Es solamente razonable pues pagaste por más que recibiste.”

“Stanley?” Ford’s voice floated from the boat shop, and Stan quickly walked backwards.

“Adios!”

And Stan disappeared back into the store, assuring Ford in English that he wasn’t in any trouble, he was just looking at some of the bazaars.

Esteban couldn’t help the small smile that was on his face as he went into a nearby alley to drink the rest of the blood he had paid Stan for in the first place.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel were preparing for their trip up to Oregon in a different way.

Janice arrived at their house for the sleepover the night before the day they would hop onto the bus for Gravity Falls, Oregon.

“What’d your mom say!?” they both asked Janice as they helped her take her things to the room Dipper and Mabel shared.

“She says I can go up with you two and my dad! We’ll be taking his motorbike up instead of the bus, but I get to go, I get to go!” Janice said.

Mabel let out a high-pitched squeal, soon matched by Waddles squealing because Mabel was squealing. Dipper punched the air in victory as Mabel threw her arms around Janice and hugged her tightly.

“Operation Matchmake is a go! And you’ll get to meet Grenda and Candy and Pacifica!”

“And Soos and Wendy!” Dipper added.

He noticed that Janice was grinning quite a bit as Mabel squeezed her.

Dipper wasn’t blind. He had taken a few months to figure it out, but he knew that Janice was probably just as gay as her dad was. And he was fairly certain that Janice had a crush on Mabel.

Dipper wasn’t going to say anything, though. He’d leave all the figuring-things-out to Janice and Mabel, though if Janice or Mabel wanted to talk to him about anything, he’d be more than willing to listen.

He liked Janice. Unlike all of Mabel’s crushes on boys last summer, he actually knew who Janice was as a person, and he liked her as a friend, and she was a good person. While he knew his approval didn’t have a say in the matter, he would be pretty happy if they did get together.

He wasn’t sure how that could affect Stan and Spitfire being an item, but he couldn’t think of any real reason why both sets of Pines and Pumbertons couldn’t be together at the same time. He was pretty sure it could work.

Though the biggest obstacle in Janice getting with Mabel was that Dipper had no idea if Mabel liked girls.

Like, Mabel hadn’t said anything about it. And she only talked about boys.

So maybe it was just Dipper’s wishful thinking that Janice could have a happy ending with his sister.

But it’d be nice.

He couldn’t imagine Janice ever being mean to Mabel. Janice’s worst trait was that she didn’t speak up enough for herself; she was kind and caring, and Dipper wanted the best for Mabel.

So the kids all had a sleepover, and then in the morning Spitfire came to pick Janice up from the house and Dipper and Mabel’s parents took them to the bus stop.

Ford and Stan were already in Gravity Falls when the twins showed up via the bus. They were at the bus stop, waiting.

“Kids!”

“Grunkle Stan, Great-Uncle Ford!”

The kids tackle-hugged their uncles the moment they got off the bus.

“Was the bus ride all right?”

“How was the boat ride in!?”

“This is gonna be so much fun!!! Gimme one sec!” And Mabel took her phone out and dialed Janice’s number.

“Who’s she calling?” Ford asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We have a surprise for you,” Dipper said, grinning.

“Are you here yet?” Mabel asked into the phone. “Oh, great! Awesome! We’ll meet you there! I’m hungry anyway, and Dipper’s gotta pee.”

“Mabel!”

“Grunkle Stan, your surprise is at Greasy’s Diner!”

“Huh?”

The adults looked at each other, then shrugged, and Mabel grabbed onto Stan’s hand and started dragging him in the direction of Greasy’s Diner.

“The car’s the other way, Mabel!” Ford called after them.

Dipper and Mabel refused to explain until they got to Greasy’s Diner.

Mabel flung the door to the diner open, and she squealed as though she hadn’t known they were going to be there.

Tackle-hugging Janice every since she saw her was becoming Mabel’s trademark, and she did the same to Spitfire.

“Look who we invited to spend the summer with us here in Gravity Falls!” Mabel shouted after giving her hugs.

“Spitfire! You ole rascal!” Stan greeted, walking over to the booth.

Stan was happy to see Spitfire, and they were greeting each other with those guy-friend half-hugs back-pats Dipper had seen dudes give each other on TV, and Stan was asking about how Spitfire had been, and Spitfire was asking about the trip to the Arctic, and this was gonna be awesome - !

Dipper took a while to notice that Ford was frowning. Dipper watched as Ford forced a smile when Spitfire and Janice actually looked at him, and he watched as he failed to keep it on whenever they looked away from him. He’d force it for Stan as well.

Mabel just hadn’t noticed period, and Dipper felt like Ford hadn’t realized Dipper was now staring at Ford and his facial expressions.

Dipper was convinced that Spitfire would make a good match for Grunkle Stan.

But it hadn’t ever occurred to him that Great-Uncle Ford might not like Spitfire. Because it was definitely Spitfire Ford was opposed to seeing.

When he interacting with Janice and answered Janice’s questions, he was genuinely smiling and being kind to her. Ford liked Janice, just as Dipper did.

Ford didn’t like Spitfire, and Dipper had no idea why.

Dipper’s stomach tied itself up into knots.

He only ordered a milk and lied about not being hungry.


	9. Chapter 9

Ford had no idea where Stan got the RV from, but he wasn’t going to question it.

“All right, everybody in the RV!”

The road trip had been something that Stan had talked to the kids about, though initially Ford hadn’t been aware that Janice and Spitfire would be there or that Mabel would’ve invited Candy and Grenda. He had no problems with the children going along with them.

But he wasn’t looking forward to spending more time with Spitfire than he had to.

It wasn’t that Ford thought Spitfire was a bad person, per se. If the man had nothing to do with Stanley, he was fairly certain he would be indifferent to the man. And he was kind to the children, so that was a trait that went in Spitfire’s favor.

But he was supposed to be a friend of Stanley’s. He had been in the Shack during Weirdmageddon. He had been a part of Jimmy’s biker gang.

Spitfire had done nothing to try to protect Stanley, and Ford had no reason to believe he wasn’t still working for Jimmy.

Granted, Jimmy had just disappeared without a word after Weirdmageddon. No one had seen him after Gideon’s prison buddies had carted him off to be tormented by Bill. No one knew where he had gone or where he was now. And Ford was fine with that as long as they never had to see him again.

But for all Ford knew, Spitfire was still in contact with Jimmy. Jimmy certainly had ways to contact Spitfire if he wanted to. It was how Spitfire had ended up in Gravity Falls in the first place.

It made Ford uneasy, and the idea that Jimmy Snakes might somehow come back into contact with Stan just because Stan was still associating with Spitfire made his skin crawl.

He also remembered how Spitfire had taken his hand and measured it without asking.

He refused to listen to the urge that told him to hide his hands in his pockets or behind his back. He was not twelve years old anymore.

The unicorn-leather gloves indeed had been useful during their Arctic travels, though. Not only did they keep his hands warm, but several creatures of the deep reacted to the material in similar ways that the Henchmaniacs and Jimmy had. But Ford did not think that the unicorn-hide gloves and Mabel’s jacket and Stan’s belt did enough to make up for the fact that Spitfire had basically just stood there when Jimmy had smacked Stan into the wall.

It was Dipper and Mabel and Wendy and Multibear who had gotten involved, not Spitfire, and Ford would not forget it.

The entire point to this road trip was so that Stan could harass some old competitors that were now Soos’s competitors and also to show the kids something that was outside of Gravity Falls for a change.

While the children seemed to be enjoying themselves, Ford couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at their behavior.

It might make sense for Dipper to want to follow Ford everywhere, but all the children seemed to want Ford to be their de-facto adult supervision, leaving Stan and Spitfire to entertain themselves at the Giant Ball of Yarn, the Upside Down House, the Corn Maze, and the Mystery Mountain.

Ford was starting to get suspicious of it by the time they got to the Corn Maze.

Especially when he saw that Candy, Grenda, Mabel, and Janice kept taking turns to keep tabs on what Stan and Spitfire were doing.

“All right, children, what’s going on?” Ford asked, putting his hands on his hips as the girls whispered and giggled and even Dipper was getting in on it.

“Oh, nothing~!” Mabel said, her grin indicating otherwise. Candy and Grenda giggled, but Janice bowed her head and stared at her feet, and Dipper started to look nervous.

“Mabel,” Ford said more sternly.

“All right, all right,” Mabel said, looking like she was going to burst from excitement. “We’re getting Grunkle Stan a boyfriend!”

Ford stared at her. She grinned back at him.

“Isn’t the corn maze romantic?” Candy asked, and Ford couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not.

Ford didn’t really understand romance. He understood enjoying each other’s company and wanting to do things with people, but romance was a concept that eluded him. He was pretty sure a corn maze was not included in the concept, however.

Stan had always taken Carla McCorkle out to the Juke Joint and Ma would sigh and wish that Pa would take her out to the boardwalk and a fancy dinner like he used to do before they were married. Sometimes Stan saw a movie with a girl.

Dancing, food, carnival games, and movies. Corn mazes were definitely not among those.

“Isn’t Spitfire married to Janice’s mother?” Ford asked.

“No, Dr. Pines, Mom and Dad got divorced a long time ago,” Janice said, still staring at her shoes.

“Oh,” Ford said, feeling awkward. He didn’t know if that was a sore subject or not. She had been staring at her shoes the whole time and thus he couldn’t see her face to tell.

Not that Ford had been particularly good at judging other people’s emotional responses anyway.

Mabel and Dipper were glaring at him now, though, so he assumed it must’ve been a bit of a sore subject.

Ford cleared his throat.

“Are you really sure you should be getting involved in the love lives of adults? Shouldn’t you leave that up to them?”

“We’re just giving them a nudge in the right direction, Great-Uncle Ford,” Dipper said. “Lot of alone time, plenty of opportunity to talk about private things.”

“Opportunities to hold hands and kiss,” Mabel added, looking super happy.

Dipper made a bit of a face at the idea of kissing, but otherwise went along with his sister.

“If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, but we think it will,” Dipper said. “Right, Janice?”

Janice nodded.

Ford frowned, but couldn’t really find anything to use to object to the children’s matchmaking game. He knew they wouldn’t listen if he told them no, and he didn’t want Janice to feel like he objected to her dad.

He did, but he could see the mess that would lead to, and he had already made her feel uncomfortable.

“I’m going to get another lemonade.” He refused to call it the weird corn pun that didn’t make any sense. It was lemonade, it tasted like lemonade, it just happened to be in a corn-shaped cup, and the pun was stupid. (Never mind that plenty of his own puns in his journal were stupid or that Stanley came up with stupid puns all the time. _Those_ were funny. This one was not.) “Does anyone else want one?”

Janice mumbled so low that he didn’t catch it at first. He asked her to repeat, and she spoke up, though her head was still bowed.

“M-May I have another frosted lemonade?”

“Of course you may. The rest of you stay here, we’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” the other four said in chorus. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda went back to spying on Stan and Spitfire.

Ford gently placed his hand on Janice’s shoulder as they walked to the lemonade stand, then ordered the regular lemonade and the frosted lemonade, which was essentially lemonade mixed with vanilla ice cream.

Ford handed over the card that had the money Fiddleford gave them on it, then looked over at the young girl beside him.

“I’m sorry for bringing up unpleasant things,” Ford said. “I hadn’t meant to upset you.”

“It’s okay, Dr. Pines,” Janice said. “I know I hadn’t told you or Mr. Pines about it.”

“You can call me Ford if you’d like,” Ford said.

“Um, I would, but I don’t think my mom would like that, so I’ll just call you Dr. Pines.”

“Oh. Um. All right.”

Ford didn’t know what to make of that, but the stand runner handed him the lemonades, and he handed Janice hers.

She quietly sipped at it with the straw, and Ford did the same as they walked back to the others.

After the Corn Maze, they went to the Mystery Mountain. Ford could hear Stan and Spitfire telling the children about child-appropriate stories of their biker days together. But Ford tried to ignore it as he sat in the back of the RV.

Jimmy was in all of those stories, even if they didn’t dwell on Jimmy much, and it bothered Ford a lot.

If it bothered the twins, they didn’t know it much, though Dipper wasn’t speaking much during these stories and kept twisting at the front of his shirt in his seat.

Though after a while, Ford got up and walked to the front of the RV.

“Wait, how old were you back then?” Ford asked Spitfire.

Spitfire turned his head to look at Ford better from his place in shotgun.

“I was fourteen in the beginning,” Spitfire said.

“Yeah, Spitfire had run away from home, and I had fitted him a fake license when Jimmy said he’d be part of the crew,” Stan said, keeping his eyes on the road.

“So that makes you five years younger than us,” Ford said, putting his chin in his hand. He hadn’t expected that. He knew black men seemed to age at a slower rate, but he had thought they were the same age.

Granted, at sixty-two (sixty-four? how old were he and Stan again?), five years didn’t seem like a big age gap. So Spitfire was fifty-seven at the youngest and fifty-nine at the oldest.

“Wait, you went drinking and smoking with a fourteen-year-old!?” Ford said, rounding on Stan.

Stan shrugged.

“I wasn’t the best role model, okay?” Stan said.

“Well, Jimmy was even older than you, wasn’t he?” Spitfire said.

“Yeah, by about seven years,” Stan said.

“Seven!?” Ford said.

So while Spitfire had been fourteen and running around with adults on bikes, Stan had been nineteen, and then that made Jimmy twenty-six.

Ford was getting pissed off again just thinking about it. Twenty-six was definitely too old to be dating a nineteen-year-old!

He hated Jimmy now more than ever, and Ford went back into the back of the RV to sulk.

“It was a long time ago, Ford!” Stan called back to him, but Ford didn’t respond.

The Mystery Mountain parking lot finally came into view.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Character death. Not a major character or a recurring character, but a character from canon nonetheless.

Stan parked the RV, and the kids made a big deal about wanting to hang out with Ford. Stan thought it was a bit weird, but it was also hilarious to watch Ford being surrounded by so many children pawing at his sweater sleeves. Ford looked a little grumpy about it, but that was part of why it looked so funny.

So just to annoy Ford, Stan didn’t bother to help him and just laughed to himself.

“Never would’ve thought Ford’d be popular with the kids,” Stan said as he and Spitfire watched them wander off.

“I bet you’re pretty popular with them, too,” Spitfire said, smiling softly.

Stan laughed.

“It took a long while for Dipper and Mabel to warm up to me, and I’m far from anybody’s favorite person. Especially with kids and teenagers.”

“That’s too bad. Well, their loss then.”

“Only you’d think that,” Stan said.

He remembered how Spitfire was as a teenager. Spitfire used to practically worship the ground Stan walked on. Stan had felt the kid was too easily impressed, but it had felt nice. (At least, it had on days when his depression wasn’t dragging him down, down, down…. Those days, it made him feel like a fraud.)

“Now,” Stan said, playfully punching Spitfire in the arm. “I was gonna show you how it’s done.”

At the last tourist trap, they had talked about Spitfire and his lack of dating since his divorce. Said he didn’t have the charm anymore. So Stan said that he’d demonstrate the art of the pick-up artist.

He found a woman who probably wasn’t too much younger than him - hair was obviously dyed blonde, and her skin was tanned in a way that screamed artificial tanning salons that increased your likelihood of skin cancer by 40% and it was stretched in a way that told Stan she probably had gotten botox at some point. Definitely wasn’t a spring chicken at any rate. Then he walked over to her.

“Oh gee! I seem to have lost my number! Can I borrow yours?”

She laughed, and Stan knew this was working.

“Oh, you’re a riot!”

A little more chit-chat and names exchanged, and Stan soon was taking a romantic stroll up the Mystery Mountain. He shot Spitfire a grin and a wink.

Spitfire laughed and shook his head. The deal had been that Stan would show him how it was done, then Spitfire was expected to try it out on someone himself. But he didn’t really intend to do that just yet.

Instead, Spitfire went looking for Ford and the kids.

They were sitting around, Mabel and Grenda eating spider-themed candy and everyone listening to Candy read the brochures she had brought with her, when Spitfire found them.

“There you all are.”

“Daddy! Where’s Mr. Pines?”

“Oh, he found himself a lady friend,” Spitfire said with a bit of a chuckle in his voice.

“What!?” Mabel and Dipper exclaimed.

Ford had a weird smirk on his face at the news, and Spitfire couldn’t pinpoint what it was supposed to mean.

Mabel and Dipper, though, seemed upset by this.

“What do you mean lady friend!?” Mabel asked.

“I mean he flirted with a woman and they’ve gone up the mountain for a romantic stroll. Is everything okay?” Spitfire asked.

“But he’s supposed to -!” Mabel started, but Dipper elbowed her in the arm rather hard. “Ow!”

Mabel rubbed her arm where Dipper had elbowed her.

“Supposed to what?”

“Nothing!” Dipper answered, then he grabbed Mabel’s hand. “Mabel, didn’t you say you had to go to the bathroom?”

“Wha-? Oh! Yes! I did! Let’s go find it!”

The lie wasn’t very convincing, but the two children ran off in a hurry.

Dipper and Mabel hurried up the path on the mountain, hoping they’d be able to figure out what was going on. Mabel tried calling the phone number that Stan had given her for talking to them, but when the other end picked up, Ford answered.

“Hello, Mabel.”

“Grunkle Ford!”

“You know Stan doesn’t actually know how to use this phone, right?”

“Ugh! Bye, Grunkle Ford!”

Mabel then hung up. Sure, she and Dipper shared a cell phone, but seriously!

“If you were on a date with a girl, where’d you go!?” Dipper asked.

“I should be asking you that!” Mabel said.

Dipper made exacerbated noises.

“I don’t know! What did Candy read out in that brochure again!?”

“Uh, uh, there are new mummies daily!”

“How can there be new mummies!?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay, okay, Grunkle Stan is kinda creepy and bad at judging people’s reactions sometimes, right?”

“Right.”

“So he’d probably take her to look at the mummies!”

So they then ran up to the mummies exhibit. They tried to catch their breath, then explored the museum, trying to find Grunkle Stan.

He wasn’t in any public area of the museum, but Mabel, through her silliness (much like she discovered all the solutions to the mystery of Quentin Trembly the Third), discovered a secret passageway in the wall. The walls to the passageway were very rocky, but Dipper and Mabel chose to risk it. They had Ford on speed dial, so if anything bad happened, they’d just call him.

Soon, they came across a cave.

And discovered how the new mummies were created.

“Grunkle Stan!”

“Kids!”

Stan was hanging upside down, wrapped up in … spider web?

“We’ll get you down from there!” Dipper shouted up to Stan.

“Look out!” Stan shouted.

Dipper and Mabel turned around, and the face of a giant spider lunged at them. The kids screamed and dodged, then ran around the cave, trying to find a solution.

Mabel called Ford.

Ford picked up the call, expecting to be hearing Mabel complaining about Stan and his date.

Instead Ford had to pull the phone away from his ear due to her screaming.

“GRUNKLE FORD, THERE’S A SPIDER MONSTER, HELP! CAVE, WE’RE IN A CAVE! TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN, SECRET ENTRANCE IN THE MUSEUM!”

A wordless scream followed, and he could faintly hear Dipper yelling in the background.

Ford bolted up out of his seat and ran. He could hear Candy and Grenda hurrying behind him. He unholstered the gun on his hip as he got closer to the top of the mountain.

Running up a mountain was no easy feat, but he had no time to waste. If anything happened to Stan or the children - !

Ford reached the cave just in time. The spider monster had caught Mabel and Dipper both in her webbing and had hung them from the ceiling just as she had done with Stan. Dipper and Mabel tried to fight their restraints, but Stan’s face was turning a pale color with a purple tinge.

Poison. Stan was poisoned, again. And this was faster acting than the jellyfish man.

Ford took aim and pulled the trigger.

His gun made a loud bang, and Ford could see Dipper wince more than Mabel, teeth gritted and his flinch lasting longer than Mabel’s.

The bullet went right into the spider’s head, and it fell to the ground.

Ford quickly went to Stan and the children, first getting Stan down, then Mabel and Dipper.

Dipper held his head in his arms, pulling his hat further down on his head. He started to rock back and forth. Spider blood oozed onto the cave floor, but Ford paid it no mind.

“Girls, help me with Stan! The med kit is back at the RV!”

Grenda and Candy moved to help Ford, but Mabel stayed by Dipper’s side.

“We’ve gotta go, Dipper!”

Dipper shook his head, which really shook his whole torso because he was still holding onto his hat, and he made a weird whining noise that Ford had never heard from him before.

“Dipper, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time! Grunkle Stan needs us!”

Dipper, sitting on the cave floor, started rocking more furiously and the whine got louder.

Ford and the other two girls had gotten Stan near the mouth of the cave, but paused when they realized Mabel and Dipper were still in the cave.

“Children! Come on!”

Ford heard footsteps appraoching the mouth of the cave, and he turned his head to see Spitfire and Janice.

Spitfire had the first aid kit.

“Bring the kit here!” Ford demanded, setting Stan down on the ground.

Spitfire quickly brought the kit over, and Ford cracked it open and took the anti-venom he had been carrying in it. He quickly administered it to Stan, then waited.

Stan groaned. At least he was alive. And he would stay that way.

“Is Mr. Pines gonna be okay?” Janice asked.

“He will now,” Ford said.

“Where are Dipper and Mabel?” she asked.

“Still in the cave. Don’t go in there, it’s … not pretty. But Dipper and Mabel are fine now.”

Spitfire walked into the cave, leaving Janice with Ford, Candy, and Grenda.

Inside the cave, Dipper was continuing to have his meltdown, and Mabel was trying to soothe him. She held him, holding his head against her body, and she rocked with him.

Spitfire was taken aback by the bleeding spider corpse barely three feet away from the children.

He approached the children and knelt down to be on their level.

“What happened?” Spitfire asked.

“Grunkle Ford shot the monster, but Dipper can’t handle loud noises like that, so he’s … trying to cope.”

She rocked back and forth with Dipper, and Spitfire could tell she was trying to cope too.

The spider corpse was in Mabel’s line of sight. Spitfire moved so that he could block the corpse from her view.

“Would it help if I carried you both out of here?” he asked.

“You should probably carry just Dipper,” Mabel said. “And let him bury his face into your shoulder. He feels a little better if he has some kind of pressure around his head. Like this.”

And she demonstrated, giving Dipper a squeeze around his head. He curled more around his sister; it wasn’t a hug because his hands were still holding onto his hat, but it was as close as one could get without the use of their arms.

“I think I can manage that,” Spitfire said.

He picked Dipper up, and he felt Dipper burying his face into his shoulder. Mabel then held onto the edge of his jacket, and they walked out of the cave.

Ford was helping Stan get back to his feet, and they took the sky lift down to where the RV was.

It was a very quiet car ride back to Gravity Falls. Dipper didn’t say a word, and Mabel stayed curled up around him the duration of the trip.

Stan was telling Spitfire and Ford about how Darlene the Mystery Mountain ticketer turned out to be a spider monster lady who turned “gross dudes who thought they could get a girl with some bad pick-up lines” into new mummies for her attraction.

Stan frowned a lot and stared out the window, and Ford didn’t like the weird feeling the frown gave him.


	11. Chapter 11

For their summer this time around, they all were staying with Fiddleford McGucket in his mansion. Ford and Stan had been a bit embarrassed to ask Fiddleford if it would be possible to have Spitfire and Janice stay with him as well, but Fiddleford had embraced Spitfire and Janice with open arms.

“It’s way too empty in this place! I’d be happy to have ya!”

When they had left for the tourist trap road trip, Fiddleford had made sure they had plenty of snacks and food with them and wished them good luck and a safe trip.

When they returned in dampened spirits (and Dipper having remained non-verbal even still), Fiddleford had been quite worried.

“Y’all come right in. Are ya hungry?”

After making sure the children were otherwise fine (though he was concerned while Dipper kept pulling down his hat by its sides and why Mabel kept answering questions directed at him for him) and fixing them hot chocolates and a comfy resting place in a room of their choosing, Fiddleford fixed the adults their own drinks, then sat down with them.

“What happened?”

Ford explained this time, not wanting to put Stan through more grief than he had to be.

“The noise the gun made seems to have … unsettled Dipper quite a bit,” Ford said. “Due to his sensory issues.”

Only Ford’s research that Dipper had handed him gave him assurance that he hadn’t somehow accidentally robbed Dipper of his voice forever. The boy didn’t know sign language, and back in the RV when they had stopped at the Upside Down Town again for a rest stop, Dipper hadn’t even been able to write down what he wanted to say. Since losing his voice, he relied heavily on Mabel to communicate for him.

Mabel had taken the responsibility very seriously after the day’s events, double-checking as best she could that she was understanding his body language properly and asking many questions about his needs that he could answer with either a nod or a shake of the head.

“Oh my gosh, are you all right, Stanley?” Fiddleford said.

Since he called Ford Stanford still, it only made sense for Fiddleford to call Stan Stanley, though he was the only one aside from Ford who still did. Spitfire called him Stan, as did everyone else.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Stan said, staring his mug down.

Ford, Spitfire, and Fiddleford McGucket were all frowning as they watched Stan.

Ford was remembering how he had looked and held himself after he had beaten Jimmy repeatedly with his fists.

Spitfire remembered days long ago when Stan would spend quite a while, days even, staring at things in a morose way until his attention was pulled away from his own thoughts. Especially on days where bruises were still healing.

Fiddleford wasn’t reminded of anything in particular. He just knew that Stan was feeling sad.

The first one to do anything about it was Fiddleford.

Fiddleford reached out his hand and put it atop of Stan’s.

Stan looked up and met Fiddleford’s gaze.

“Really, I’m okay. It wasn’t the … okay, it was pretty bad, but still not the worst thing that’s happened to me. I’ll get over it.”

Ford’s heart broke at hearing that, but Fiddleford somehow had a way of making it better.

“Well, if you’ve been through worse than that, then I don’t doubt it, Stanley. Say, I have some goodies I can bring out. Would you all like that, or are y’all full?”

“By goodies, do you mean sugary or alcoholic?” Stan said, starting to smirk.

“Sugar! I, uh, I’ve been keeping the alcohol out of the house, if you catch my drift.”

“Understood. Yeah, I’d love some. What about you, Ford? Spitfire?”

“Yeah,” Ford said, a small smile appearing on his face. “That sounds nice.”

Ford wasn’t listening when Spitfire gave his answer, and he almost hadn’t noticed that the other man had gone into the other room to check on the children.

That was twice now that Fiddleford knew exactly what to say in order to soothe Stan. And Ford in the process this time. Fiddleford had always been the sweetest man Ford had ever met in college. He was such a good friend and full of kindness, but Weirdmageddon had proved that there was also a lot of fight in the man when it came to protecting others. And that brain of his was magnificent and so technologically inclined and clever! Ford tried not to feel too guilty about what had happened between him and Fiddleford now that he had given his apology to the other man, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder what Fiddleford would have been at this point had Ford never gotten Fiddleford involved in the portal. And Fiddleford was forgiving, more so than Ford thought any man really deserved to receive, and it was incredible.

Fiddleford was incredible. If only Stanley could be attracted to a man like - !

The idea exploded in Ford’s brain, and he felt excited just thinking about it.

Stanley could date Fiddleford! Fiddleford had money, he was resourceful and kind and protective! Fiddleford could provide for Stanley in so many ways! And most importantly, he knew how to make Stan happy, and with so little prompting to do so and didn’t hesitate to step in to try to put a smile back on Stan’s face. Fiddleford was perfect! 

A raccoon hopped onto the table right when Fiddleford placed the baked goodies onto the table.

Fiddleford laughed and handed it a muffin.

“Uh, hello, Mrs. McGucket,” Stan said.

“Pardon?” Ford said.

“Oh! I can’t believe I haven’t introduced you yet! Stanford, meet my wife!”

“… This is Fiona?”

“Oh, no! Fiona and I divorced a long time ago, this is my second wife! Say hello, Beatrice!”

The raccoon hissed at Ford.

Ford just didn’t say anything for a long moment, then took a long sip of the coffee Fiddleford had given him.

That … posed a little bit of a problem, but honestly, there was no way a raccoon stood a chance against a _human_ love interest. And raccoons did lead shorter lives.

Ford could work with this.

He was getting Fiddleford McGucket and his brother, Stan Pines, together if it was the last thing Ford ever did.


	12. Chapter 12

Ford was the first to be awake the next day.

Seeing that Beatrice was rooting around in the kitchen, Ford had grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. He set a plate down on the counter, then took a knife and cut the core out of the apple. The apple seeds were still attached to the core, and he put the core onto the plate.

Beatrice hopped up onto the counter and grabbed the apple core, then ate it at her own pace.

Ford ate the rest of the apple and watched, taking note that Beatrice did indeed swallow the apple seeds.

Beatrice then looked up at Ford expectantly.

“Would you like another?” Ford asked.

He took the continued staring and the rubbing of her little raccoon hands as a yes. He cut out another apple core, complete with apple seeds, and put that in front of her as well.

Ford gave a little bit of a start when he heard the footsteps of another person.

Soon Dipper appeared, yawning.

“Mornin’, Great-Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, the first thing he had said since the gun shot echoed in the cave yesterday.

“Good morning, Dipper,” Ford said, pointedly looking away from Beatrice and focusing all his attention on Dipper. It was less suspicious if he did that. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

“I’m all right. Mabel didn’t sleep so well,” Dipper admitted.

“She didn’t?”

Dipper shook her head.

“She kept having nightmares, so we actually stayed up rather late, keeping each other company.”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“A few hours’ worth….”

“Well, in that case, I must insist you go back to bed, young man. It’s 6 AM.”

“Can I have a glass of milk first?”

“Of course you may.”

Dipper did notice Beatrice on the counter, but he just smiled at her and let Beatrice know that she should look forward to Mabel giving her some pets when Mabel woke back up.

By the time that Stanley, Spitfire, Fiddleford, and Janice were awake, Ford had harvested quite a few apple seeds and had deposited them into a ziplock bag and then put the bag into his coat pocket.

When Dipper and Mabel re-emerged from their room, there was chatter over breakfast (well, brunch at this point, honestly) about what they were going to do that day. A lot of what Dipper and Mabel wanted to do was introduce Janice to Soos, Melody, and Wendy properly. Fiddleford would not be spending the day with them since he had a lot of work to do on a new project, and the Northwests had enlisted his help with the Summerween plans they had.

“I’m not sure what made them change their minds, but the Northwests have been rather involved in the community lately! They’re putting together this big haunted house for Summerween, and they want my help with some of the designs!”

“Oh! Pacifica, you have to meet Pacifica, Janice! You’ll love her!” Mabel said.

“I dunno about love, but you should definitely meet her. She comes off a little prickly, but she’s good deep down,” Dipper said.

The kids were then allowed to dash out and have fun, Stan and Spitfire going with them. Ford said something about wanting to see what Fiddleford’s project was.

So first, Stan, Spitfire, Dipper, Mabel, and Janice all went to the Mystery Shack to say hello to Soos, Melody, and Wendy.

They hadn’t expected Pacifica to already be there.

“There you are!” Pacifica said, smirking at them. “I’ve been coming here for three days in a row just to catch you!”

“Dudes! Mr. Pines!”

Soos gave Stan, Dipper, and Mabel huge, body-squishing hugs.

“Ugh! Soos! I’m not young anymore! Put me down!” Stan protested.

“Urk - ! Janice, this is Soos,” Dipper said.

Janice giggled a little.

“Hello, Mr. Soos.”

Soos let go of the Pines family.

“It’s just Soos, dude. Nice to meet you! Janice, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Heh heh. She called me sir.”

“And you remember Spitfire, right?” Mabel said, grabbing Spitfire’s hand and tugging a little.

“Yeah! You’re that nicer biker dude who helped me rebuild this place.”

“It’s good to see you again, Soos.”

Spitfire and Soos shook hands.

“And this is Pacifica. Pacifica, meet Janice. She’s Spitfire’s daughter.”

Pacifica held her hand out to Janice.

“It’s good to meet you. Mabel’s told me quite a bit about you in e-mails.”

“R-really?” Janice said.

Pacifica, due to her knowledge of make-up and her great attention to detail, noticed the slight reddening of her complexion. The detail was lost on Dipper, whose faceblindness made general differences in skin tone difficult to detect unless the differences were significant, and Mabel, who was too busy catching Soos up on everything they had been doing (though she didn’t mention the spider monster).

“Yeah, Mabel’s really fond of you,” Pacifica said, having an inkling what was going on, even though she had just met her.

Pacifica was actually a little bit older than Dipper and Mabel. She had turned fourteen back in April. She knew these things. And Janice was cute, so she had that going for her. Though Pacifica had the urge to take the girl shopping. Those shoes were so last year.

Pacifica and Janice shook hands.

“Mabel’s talked about you, too,” Janice said. “She says you’re great.”

“Well, of course I am,” Pacifica said, throwing her hair back over her shoulder.

“Yo! Dipper! Mabel! Mr. Pines! What up?”

“WENDY!”

Dipper and Mabel threw themselves at Wendy, and Wendy caught them in her arms.

“How’re my favorite people!?” Wendy asked.

“Good!”

“We brought a friend!”

“Janice, this is Wendy!”

“Hi, Ms. Wendy.”

“Whoa, dude, I’m sixteen, no need to call me Ms. or ma’am. Wendy’s cool.”

“Oh, um, okay, W-wendy.”

Spitfire put his hand on Janice’s shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Hey, you guys wanna show her and Pacifica the secret hideout?”

“Yeah!” both twins shouted at once.

“C’mon, Pacifica! Janice!”

“Roof time, roof time!” Dipper chanted.

“Roof time? Secret hideout?” Stan asked, but the kids and Wendy disappeared up the ladder to the roof faster than Stan could ask “did you skeeve off work when I wasn’t around?”

Stan sighed instead, then patted the back of his hand on Spitfire’s shoulder.

“So what’s the deal with Janice?”

“Hm?”

“Why does she get awkward when people ask her to be more informal?”

“Oh. Well, her mother is … very strict, is all.”

“Hm.”

Stan frowned, but he didn’t pry any further than that.

“So Soos, how’s the shop been?”

“Business has been swell, Mr. Pines!”

Up on the roof, Wendy, Dipper, Mabel, Pacifica, and Janice were all laughing, and the first three were chucking pine cones at the targets on the totem pole.

Dipper had thrown a pine cone particularly far, but it missed its target and started to fall into the road below.

It hit the hood of an approaching car, and it slowed to a stop. A window rolled down, and Gideon Gleeful’s face popped out.

“Hey, Mabel! Dipper! I didn’t know you were back yet!”

“Oh, hey, Gideon!” Mabel said, her smile turning a little nervous. “What’re you doing here?”

“Just rollin’ around town with the boys! Say hi, Ghost Eyes.”

“Hello!”

“Who’s your friend?” Gideon asked.

“This is Janice! She’s, uh, Dipper’s girlfriend!” Mabel lied.

“Mabel,” Dipper hissed quietly, but there was no way Gideon could’ve heard it.

“Oh, cool! Well, I’ll see you around! Bye now!”

“Bye!”

Mabel waved Gideon goodbye, and Dipper crossed his arms.

“What was that about?”

“Now he has no reason to think she’s interested in him.”

“Would … that be a bad thing?” Janice asked.

“He’s a little creepy,” Mabel said.

“This is true, but he’s not all bad. Gideon and I have been playing mini-golf together lately. And make-up shopping.”

“Of course he goes mini-golfing,” Mabel said, her smile becoming stiff and uncomfortable. “So! Who wants soda?’


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Character death. Not a major or main character, but a canon character nonetheless.

Dipper, Mabel, and Janice sat around the lava lamp that was in Dipper and Mabel’s guest room, staring at it while they talked about various things. The digital clock on Dipper’s bedside table read 9:00PM.

“Dipper, would it be all right if I asked a question about … what happened in the cave?” Janice asked.

“Sure,” Dipper said.

“I’m … not sure I understand what happened to do or why you weren’t able to talk.”

“Oh. That. Well, that sometimes happens when I get too stressed out or overstimulated. By loud noises, mostly, but sometimes it happens with other stuff. Basically, I shut down and stop being able to talk ‘cause my head is hurting a lot, and it can’t handle the sudden stress, so the part of my brain that makes me know how to talk stops working. I think. Technically it can happen to anybody, but to neurotypical people, it would only happen in, like, torture chambers or something.”

“Does … not talking hurt?”

“Nope,” Dipper said. “It might linger after the headache goes away, but it always comes back eventually. It’s not too big a deal, except Mabel is the only one who really knows how to interpret my gesturing in those situations. Might be a twin thing.”

Dipper shrugged.

“I’ll be honest, I wish there was some kind of solution we could have just so Dipper and I don’t have to just cross our fingers that I’m reading his gestures right, but we tried writing things down, and that only works if the stress level’s gone down. And we did some reading, and learning sign language might not even work.” Mabel said.

“We could give it a try, but it’s convincing Mom and Dad to help us find lessons that’s gonna be hard. They’re kinda the ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ kind of people, and since I do know how to talk and can hear, they don’t see the point. Main reason we even got to see the doctor about any of it is ‘cause Dad got mad about my class performance a couple years back….”

Dipper was mostly staring at the lava lamp, but he was frowning now.

“I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Janice said, frowning too.

“Hm? Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Dipper smiled at her.

“Yeah, parents are just a drag sometimes,” Mabel said. “So, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we’ve seen the Mystery Shack, gone on a tour, met Wendy, threw pine cones at targets, met Pacifica, scheduled a shopping day with Pacifica for Saturday,” Dipper listed off.

“Well … is there a beach? I’ve actually never been to the beach before,” Janice said.

“Never been to the beach!?” Mabel pushed up on her arms, now looking a bit like a seal. “Ever!?”

Janice shook her head.

“Yeah, we can check out the beach! Did you bring a swimsuit?”

Janice nodded.

“Awesome. I’ll go talk to Great-Uncle Ford and Grunkle Stan about it,” Dipper said, standing up.

“This’ll be so much fun! We’ll make sand castles and look for sea shells - !”

Dipper went down the hallway and found the staircase, then hopped down the steps in search for Ford and Stan.

He found Ford in the kitchen, just as he had this morning. Beatrice was eating off the counter, and Ford was a bit leaned over the counter. Dipper couldn’t see what Beatrice was eating because Ford was in the way.

“Hey, Great-Uncle Ford,” Dipper said.

Ford gave a bit of a start, then turned around a bit to see him. Ford then finished the turn and leaned against the counter. He brought the apple he had been holding to his mouth and bit into it.

“Hello, Dipper,” Ford said.

“Mabel and I just learned Janice has never seen the beach. Somehow, despite living in California.” Dipper was starting to really wonder what kind of a woman Janice’s mother was. “Can we take her to the beach tomorrow?”

“You’ll have to make sure that’s okay with Spitfire, but I don’t see why not,” Ford said.

“Thanks, Great-Uncle Ford!”

And Dipper hurried off to find Spitfire.

Ford turned back towards Beatrice, then grabbed another apple and did what he had done this morning: give her another plate of apple seeds.

She wasn’t a particularly smart raccoon. Ford’s theory was that she had gotten so used to Fiddleford feeding her that she had lost any instincts that would’ve protected her from eating out of just any human’s hand. Oh well.

Ford thought back to the conversation he and Fiddleford had had while Stan, Spitfire, and the children had been at the Shack.

_“I’m not judging or anything, Fiddleford, but a raccoon? How is it even possible to have a meaningful relationship with a raccoon?”_

_“Haven’t you ever owned a pet, Stanford?”_

_“Yes, but I certainly wouldn’t have married Shiftie.”_

_“… I wouldn’t exactly call Shiftie anybody’s pet, Stanford, let alone yours.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Oh…. Never mind.”_

_Ford let it slide. It didn’t matter._

_“But don’t you miss human companionship?”_

_“I, uh….”_

_Fiddleford messed with tinkering with his new invention to stall for time as he thought about his answer. Or how he was going to weasel out of answering Ford, which Ford wouldn’t allow._

_“Fiddleford.”_

_“You wouldn’t understand.”_

_“What wouldn’t I understand?”_

_“Stanford … I know I don’t remember many things, still, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be embarrassed or ashamed of yourself. You … you’ve always been proud of yourself, so even when people doubted you or said bad things, you never let that stop you….”_

_Ford furrowed his eyebrows._

_“I … had developed a thick skin by college, Fiddleford, but rest assured, it’s not as though I’m a stranger to embarrassment. But what does that have to do with you having a human companion?”_

_“I’m a bit more dressed up now these days, but look at me! I’m a mess, Stanford. I think I’ll always be a mess. And the people in town do still remember what I used to be, and that’s always gonna be something they think about when they see me. I … I’m just not cut out for human companionship. Not that kind, anyway.”_

_“That’s not true, Fiddleford. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”_

_“Can you hand me that wrench?”_

Ford was more determined than ever to set Fiddleford and Stanley up. He just needed a good plan. A better plan than what he had right now, which didn’t really go beyond getting Beatrice out of the way.

He supposed he could’ve trapped her and taken her to a far away forest, but he really didn’t want to risk her showing back up and ruining his plan. This was the most logical way to do it.

Fiddleford would get over her, and then Fiddleford and Stanley could put each other back together.

Dipper had gotten permission from both Stan and Spitfire about the beach, then he reported back to Mabel and Janice.

But in the morning, everyone was awoken by Fiddleford’s heartbroken cries echoing in the mansion.

When the children reached Fiddleford’s room, Stan was already there, and he held out his hand to stop them.

“Uh, kids, you don’t wanna see it,” Stan said. “Go get Ford, okay?”

“Is McGucket okay?” Mabel asked.

“He’ll - he’ll be okay, I just don’t want you to see. Beatrice … must’ve been an old raccoon or something,” Stan said, sounding awkward and unsure about what to do. 

Spitfire appeared in the hall right then, mouth opening to ask what was wrong, but then Mabel spoke up in a watery voice.

“Beatrice is dead?”

“Oh sweetie…. C’mon, go downstairs with your brother and friend for now, okay? Find Ford, he’ll - he’ll know what to do.”

Spitfire went with the children downstairs, and Stan entered Fiddleford’s room. He silently went over to the old man and put a hand on his shoulder.

Fiddleford was wrapped around Beatrice, in tears and his thin frame shaking.

When Ford arrived, he was no more useful at comforting Fiddleford than Stan was, despite being closer friends with the man, but Ford handled taking Beatrice’s limp body away from Fiddleford while Stan took the reigns in trying to comfort the man.

The day became dedicated to Beatrice’s funeral.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I . . . have not actually written any chapters beyond this one yet. So when I next write the next chapter on tumblr, you guys will basically get it at the same time. Unless something happens and there's another backlog. So . . . yeah. 
> 
> Also, while Ford has decided that he's not autistic and feels like he does not fit the criteria, I am actually not 100% certain he doesn't. In this fic and in Road Rage. If you decide to headcanon him that way for the purpose of the fic, you're more than welcome to. I honestly can't make a decision, other than deciding to be vague about it. I do not usually headcanon Ford as autistic, but with how I've been writing him in Road Rage and Motorbikes and Sailboats, there are several instances where I pause what I'm writing and go "so does that make Ford autistic in this fic?" and I genuinely have no idea. It's not the same as with Dipper where I can go "I identify with this character a lot, he's not stated to be autistic in canon or has an overwhelming amount of evidence for being autistic, however, so I will just headcanon him that way." (I also have an anxiety disorder, which Dipper DOES canonically have, so that may be a big part of it.) With Ford, it just seems to come out when I'm writing these fics, and I think it might just be me? Idk, up to you guys, you decide. But Ford will continue to believe that he is not, you just get to decide if he's right or not for yourselves.

It had started raining as Beatrice’s funeral started. Ford had wrapped Beatrice up in a soft blanket that Fiddleford had said was hers.

Fiddleford was trying to keep himself together while in front of the children, but his shoulders were shaking, and Ford could hear him sniffing.

Ford was regretting his actions, but he couldn’t reverse them.

Bringing back the dead never ended well, no matter the dimension. It would just be like Pet Cemetery. And that would just hurt Fiddleford more.

Mabel, somehow, sounded like she was even more hurt by this than Fiddleford. She didn’t have the same self-restraint as an adult yet, so while she was trying, she was still crying and sobbing. Dipper held her hand, and Janice put her arms around her for a hug. Mabel slipped her hand out of Dipper’s to hug her back, squeezing the other girl tightly.

Grenda, Candy, and Pacifica were there as well, along with Pacifica’s parents.

Ford could tell that the Northwest parents were mostly there just because they had a business arrangement with Fiddleford. But Pacifica went to Mabel’s side and put her hand on Mabel’s shoulder, then walked over to Fiddleford. She was carrying a flower bouquet in her arms.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. McGucket.”

Fiddleford sniffed.

“Thank you, Pacifica.” 

Ford lowered the blanket-wrapped raccoon into the hole in the ground Spitfire had dug. Spitfire then covered her up with the dirt. When he was done, Pacifica placed the flowers she brought on top of the dirt.

Fiddleford sniffed once more, then took a deep breath.

“We’re gathered here today to - to remember a beautiful soul who was by my side when no one else was. What started out as … fighting over scraps of food in the garbage dump … became a loving relationship. We learned how to communicate through thumps on the tin cans and tires… . And we survived Weirdmageddon together … !”

Fiddleford started to cry once more, and Stan put his arm around the smaller man.

“She was a scrappy gal for a scrappy guy, and she lived a good life,” Stan added.

“And she’ll live on in all our memories,” Ford said, feeling incredibly awkward and rather guilty.

He knew Fiddleford had cared about the raccoon, but he had underestimated how upset he would be…. This was a mistake. He had made a mistake, and it was a costly one.

Why were all his mistakes costly ones?

There was a moment of silence, then Stan led Fiddleford back into the house as his crying began to increase.

Pacifica went back to Mabel, Dipper, and Janice, and Spitfire followed Stan and Fiddleford.

“Are you all okay?” Pacifica asked.

“Mabel just gets really upset at the thought of dead animals,” Dipper said quietly, looking at his sister with concern.

“She was just fine last night - !” Mabel cried, burying her face into Janice’s shoulder.

“I know…. Sometimes these things just happen. Like my grandma. She had seemed to have perfect health, and then she just … wasn’t here anymore,” Janice said.

“I think it’s time to go back inside, kids,” Ford said. “It might be a good idea to get Fiddleford off the property for a bit….”

“After he’s had some time to cry. People need time to cry first,” Dipper said, sounding wiser beyond his years.

“Right,” Ford said, his feeling of awkwardness increasing.

Mabel let go of Janice, then took Dipper’s hand again, and the kids went inside.

“Can you believe all of this is over a raccoon?” Preston said under his breath.

Ford shot him a look, and Preston realized he had been overheard.

“I don’t mean to insult the man, but … it’s a raccoon.” Preston said.

Ford frowned, but his glare lost its bite.

“He loved it very much,” Ford said, trying to defend Fiddleford.

“Yes, yes.” Preston clearly didn’t have much empathy over the situation. “But this is perhaps a blessing in disguise. Now he can invest in … healthier relationships. With people. Respectable, healthier, human relationships. He’ll be taken more seriously in the community and all that.”

Ford wasn’t sure he liked Preston Northwest. The man had been … merely a child when Ford had last seen him. The man had been ten years old when Ford had gotten lost in the portal, and Ford barely remembered him from back then. And this was truly his first time interacting with the man.

But hearing him say that made Ford feel more confident about his decision. Yes, he regretted hurting FIddleford more than he had anticipated. But this would be good for him. For him and Stanley.

While Fiddleford mourned, Spitfire and Stanley took turns cooking for the group. (Lunch was Spitfire’s, Stan would be making dinner later that day.) After lunch, Pacifica and her parents took Dipper, Mabel, Candy, Grenda, and Janice to work on the Summerween haunted house, to “give Mr. McGucket some free time” and to get the very-still-upset Mabel out of the house and focused on something else.

So all that was left in the home was Fiddleford, Stanley, Spitfire, and Ford. And Ford felt very out of place.

He had no idea what to do.

And his friend’s pain was his fault.

“Lunch was delicious, Spitfire. Thank you,” Fiddleford said.

“It was no trouble. Been a while since I’ve been able to cook for someone who wasn’t myself.”

“You’ve really improved,” Stan said.

Spitfire lightly punched Stan in the shoulder.

“I was fourteen back then!”

“And fourteen-year-olds who only ever had their momma cook for them are terrible at cooking,” Stan said.

“… How did you two first meet?” Fiddleford asked.

“Well, it all started when -” Stan started.

“I had run away from home and was just then realizing I had no idea what I was doing -” Spitfire said.

“And from the way I heard it,” Stan said, then Spitfire gently shoved him again.

“I lived it, I get to tell the story.”

“Fine, fine.”

Their bickering and storytelling seemed to have distracted Fiddleford for the moment, and Ford stood there in awe of Stan’s (and by extension Spitfire’s) ability to just … know how to gear conversation to making things feel better.

“So at first, when it’s become very obvious I have no idea what I’m doing or where I am, this really skeevy guy comes over. In hindsight, he was probably some kind of a pimp or drug dealer or both. But he comes over and starts talking to me, gets my life story out of me, and offers me a job, but I have to prove myself first. And this guy was a lot older than me - even older than Stan and Jimmy at the time - so this old guy who clearly isn’t a relative of mine, chatting up this fourteen-year-old near a dark alleyway. Suspicious as heck. And that’s when Jimmy showed up.”

“I wasn’t really there at the time,” Stan said. “He, me, and the gang were milling around town, and I was busy checking me and Jimmy into the motel we’d be using for the night.”

Ford pointedly chose to ignore the thoughts that were popping up in his head at that. His hands balled into fists under the table.

He’d never be able to hear anything about Jimmy without getting angry.

“So Jimmy shows up and starts making up this story about how my old man’s been looking for me - now I know that’s bull ‘cause my step-father hated me and wanted me gone, and my biological father had been dead for years. So that kinda is what tips me off that the guy offering me a job wasn’t on the up-and-up and I just kinda go along with Jimmy because why not, right? So then Jimmy gets me away from the dude, then asks me for my name and if I’m okay and where I live, he can drop me off at home. And I explain that I’m a runaway and why I ran away, and then he decides to take me under his wing. Explains he’s part of a biker gang and all that. Now, I start wondering if he’s been lying when he takes me to the motel.”

Stan laughed. “Man, if he hadn’t been legit, you would’ve been so screwed.”

“Tell me about it,” Spitfire said with a bit of a laugh in his voice.

Spitfire remembered the apprehension that he had felt when he had first walked into Jimmy’s motel room.

_Right when he had thought he had made a terrible mistake, a head poked out of the motel room bathroom and peered at them._

_“Who’s the kid?” the man with the brunet mullet asked._

_“Says his name’s Frank. He’ll be rolling with us for a while.”_

_Stan steps out of the bathroom, then held his hand out._

_“Name’s Stan. Stan Pines.”_

_“Pumberton.”_

_They shook hands, but Spitfire was unable to look away from that handsome face._

“Honestly, you’re the main reason I didn’t try to run past Jimmy and out of the building,” Spitfire said. “I had figured such a trustworthy looking guy wouldn’t be hanging around a completely terrible person.”

Stan gave a rather odd laugh. “Oh man, Spitfire, you are terrible at reading people.”

For the adults, the rest of the day was mostly spent that way: Stan and Spitfire (and occasionally Ford) telling stories to Fiddleford to help cheer him up, though sometimes the conversations died naturally, and they allowed the somber silence that filled the void until it became too suffocating.

The children returned in time for dinner, covered in glue and paint.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any content warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Spanish edits done by: http://trashofdoom.tumblr.com/

Shopping with Pacifica ended up happening before they took Janice to the beach, but shopping with Pacifica did mean that Pacifica had taken a look at their swimwear before they left McGucket’s place, and Pacifica was “horrified and disgusted” (her exact words) at how much they lacked in style.

“I think it’s cute,” Mabel said, pouting a bit, but it did not deter Pacifica in the least.

So they went swimsuit shopping specifically, and Ford had insisted that McGucket help Stanley watch the children. Ford had enlisted Spitfire’s help in doing some errands for Fiddleford.

Ordinarily Ford would have preferred to not be alone in Spitfire’s company, but it was for the greater good.

Hearing that Fiddleford had no swimsuit, Pacifica also offered to help him pick something out and something for Stan too.

“I don’t really do the swimming thing,” Stan said. But he was ignored.

“You can’t wear that grey monstrosity forever,” Pacifica said.

Mostly it was Pacifica giving fashion advice and refusing to let Dipper and Stan and Fiddleford get many, many swim trunks designs. Janice was easy for Pacifica to find a swimsuit for, and it even had one of those little skirts that floated in the water.

Mabel fought with Pacifica until Pacifica relented over a rather … ambitious swimsuit with a bunch of flowers attached to the bodice.

Granted, Pacifica mostly caved because she noticed how much Janice was staring and blushing.

Meanwhile, Ford and Spitfire didn’t really talk or engage with each other. They got the groceries and the mechanical parts for Fiddleford’s project and some things that were on the list for the Northwest-McGucket haunted house for Summerween. (That was coming up awfully soon…. Sooner than Ford had really expected it. Time sure flew when you were old. It was depressing.)

In the auto shop, Spitfire had gotten momentarily distracted by some motorcycles lined up, but Ford had gotten distracted by the TV that was on in the waiting room.

“No one is quite sure what the cause of these sudden, massive gatherings of people who don’t seem to have race, religion, gender, or occupation in common, but it’s occurring across the nation. Many show up, only a few survive. Many bystanders have been injured, or worse, entered unexplained comas. There have been some reports that there is a common individual at all of these gatherings,” said Shandra Jiminez. “Over to you, Toby.”

“You’re absolutely correct, Shandra! This is Toby Determined on location in Austin, Texas, and this is the sight of the most recent altercation. Now, police have presented security camera footage from the altercation in New Jersey and the one here in Austin, Texas. And they’ve determined that a biker is one of the few things in common with all of these altercations. We have a picture here.”

And the TV screen presented a fuzzy picture of the perp, and Ford’s eyes widened as he recognized it as a fuzzy black-and-white photo of Jimmy Snakes.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned his head to see Spitfire had stopped looking at the motorbikes.

Spitfire was frowning.

“The hell has he gotten himself into now?” Spitfire asked.

Ford furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why do you care?” Ford said.

Spitfire looked surprised by the question, and he looked over at Ford.

“Why - ?”

“Yeah.”

Spitfire didn’t answer, and Ford’s frown deepened.

“If you care about him so much, why don’t you go spend the summer with him instead?”

Ford turned away from Spitfire and went to purchase the auto parts they would be using for Fiddleford’s project.

Ford had no idea why they had to get unwanted medical equipment for the haunted house, but whatever. He wasn’t going to question Fiddleford’s list.

Spitfire followed him out of the auto shop, a heavier clack to his leather boots.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Spitfire asked.

Ford loaded up the car, then shut the trunk closed.

“I’m sorry, is it a crime to be testy about someone who is supposed to be Stanley’s friend worrying about his abusive ex-boyfriend?”

“I’m not happy with what Jimmy did either, but -” Spitfire said, but Ford cut him off.

“Your daughter is sweet and kind, and I have no objections to the children being friends, but as far as I’m concerned, Stan can do a lot better than you in the friend department.” And the boyfriend department.

Spitfire closed his mouth, and he took a deep breath. Then he started walking away, clearly having no intention of getting back into the car with Ford.

Joke was on him. Ford had the house keys. Spitfire would have to wait to get back into the mansion.

When Ford got back to the mansion, the children had gotten back and Fiddleford, with his own house key, had let everyone in. Spitfire was less engaging with the children that he typically was, but the kids didn’t seem to notice as Mabel went on and on to him about how shopping went and how they’ll all go to the beach tomorrow - even with Fiddleford - and how fun it was going to be to make sand castles with Janice. Janice was smiling but staying quiet. She was a very quiet girl. Ford wondered if it was just how her personality was or if it had been conditioned in her.

He wished he knew more about her mother and how the years of the marriage had gone. But it probably wasn’t an appropriate conversation for him to have with a child. And he wasn’t going to ask Spitfire.

Stan seemed angry at him, but Ford couldn’t be bothered to wonder why as he helped Fiddleford to take the auto parts to the work shop. Until dinner, that’s what Ford and Fiddleford did.

“So you’re coming with us to the beach?” Ford asked for clarification.

“Well, yes, I suppose. Stanley invited me, and when the kids heard about it, they got all excited and it’s hard to tell those cute little ones no, y’know? But I, uh, Pacifica is a darlin’ and knows all about fashion, but I, uh … I kinda miss not knowin’ or noticin’ my own imperfections, y’know? I … .”

Ford smiled at him.

“If you don’t want to wear a swimsuit, that’s fine. I don’t have one, anyway, so I’ll be dressed as I normally am.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Ford said, smiling.

This was turning out rather nicely. A trip to the beach would do wonders cheering Fiddleford up, he felt, and walks on the beach could definitely be romantic, so if he could continue to keep Spitfire and Stan separated, this would all work out.

So the next day, after breakfast, they all headed for the Oregon beach. It was a way out from Gravity Falls, but that was fine. Stan drove, and Mabel had practically jumped out of the car when they got there.

There were certainly better beaches in the world, but Mabel was difficult to disappoint, and her cheerfulness was contagious.

Stan had brought his swimsuit, but he made no moves to actually change into it when they got there. Though he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts instead of his usual.

Dipper reeked of sun screen and honestly was mostly watching his sister and his friend, occasionally calling after them about being careful.

Fiddleford had taken his shoes off and walked to the edge of the shore, laughing a bit every time the water washed over his feet.

Mabel had grabbed Stan’s hand and encouraged him to build sand castles with them, and Stan laughed as he let her pull him along. Janice then took hold of her dad’s hand and asked him to do the same.

Ford let the children have their fun for a while, not wanting this to be an unpleasant experience for Janice. But he would be pulling Stanley away momentarily. He just needed a good reason.

He went over to Fiddleford, still wearing his boots.

“So Fiddleford, did I ever tell you about the various sea creatures Stan and I encountered in our traveling?”

After about five or ten minutes of recounting a story to Fiddleford, Ford pretended to have seen something in the ocean and pointed it out to Fiddleford.

“Hm? I don’t see anything.”

“It was right there,” Ford lied. “Hey! Stanley!”

Stan looked up and over at him.

“I think I found something!”

Stan got up and walked over. Dipper, Mabel, and Janice watched as Stan went. Dipper narrowed his eyes a little bit.

Dipper watched as Ford told Stan the same thing he told Fiddleford, and both old men started to try to peer around in the ocean, looking for it.

“I don’t see anything, Poindexter,” Stan said. 

“I swear it was just there.”

“All right, all right.”

Ford then waited a few moments, then backed away and went over to Dipper, Mabel, Janice, and Spitfire.

Dipper had stood up and crossed his arms.

“What was that about?” Dipper asked.

“Hm? What was what?”

“What you just did,” Dipper said, but they were quickly interrupted.

“OH MY GOSH, MERMANDO!”

“Mabel!”

Dipper turned around and Ford looked up to see Mabel jumping up and running into the ocean.

There was a merman who looked about Mabel’s age in the water, and when she swam out to him, they hugged.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here! Hi! Janice, this is Mermando, my ex-boyfriend!”

“Does he count as your boyfriend if you only knew each other for a few days?” Dipper asked, but he was ignored.

“Boyfriend?” Janice asked, and Dipper frowned as he heard the nervousness in her voice.

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend,” Dipper clarified. “He’s married now to the Manatee Queen.”

She did her best to still look happy, but Dipper could practically see the disappointment that Mabel didn’t like girls.

Dipper made it a goal to actually talk to Mabel about whether or not she might like girls or not. If there was the slightest chance that she did, he wanted Janice to have the courage to take a shot at it.

“Mermando, this is my new friend Janice! And you remember Dipper!”

“I do indeed,” Mermando said. Dipper shuddered a little, and he was a little glad that Mermando didn’t look too happy about it either. Though the merman was cute. Wait, what?

“And this is Janice’s daddy, and Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are over - !”

Screaming came from the other side of the beach, and everyone turned their heads to see what was happening.

Tentacles had grabbed Stan and were pulling him further into the ocean. The scream had belonged to Fiddleford; Stan’s was cut off the moment the creature’s face broke through the water and his eyes met Stan’s.

Ford’s eyes widened.

“YOU AGAIN!” Ford shouted, running over and pulling his gun out.

“MARCOS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? FRIENDS ARE NOT FOOD, PUT HIM DOWN!” Mermando shouted, swimming over hurriedly.

The kids and Spitfire ran after Ford and Mermando. At Mermando’s yells, the jellyfish man paused his actions, though he did not break eye contact with Stan. Stan’s eyes were unfocused, just like they had been when they had first met.

“That’s the family of my friend, let him go!” Mermando demanded. “As the prince, I order you!”

“Pero yo nunca permito que mi victima escape. Nunca.”

“MARCOS!”

Marcos sighed heavily, then his tentacles released Stanley, and Marcos’s eyes changed.

Stanley blinked repeatedly, body sitting in the water on the sand.

“Wh-what happened?” Stan asked, looking around and down at the water. He then looked back up at Marcos. “And who’re you?”

Ford wished he couldn’t see the blush that was coming onto Stan’s face.

Marcos chuckled.

“Marcos.”

“He’s my cousin,” Mermando said, frowning. “He’s supposed to be my bodyguard. I am so sorry he attempted to eat you just now, terribly, terribly sorry.”

He was saying it to Stan, but he was also looking at Mabel.

“I hadn’t thought he’d strike so quickly, otherwise I would have said something sooner, I’m so sorry.”

Mabel was frowning, but she said, “It - it’s okay now, everyone’s okay now, no one’s - no one’s getting eaten.”

Ford however still had his gun drawn and trained on Marcos. Marcos eyed it cautiously. He obviously remembered it.

“Get the hell away from my brother before I - !” Ford said. The only reason he hadn’t shot this jellyfish man in the head right now was because Mermando had called him off. This Marcos was clearly controllable in some fashion, unlike the spider woman. That meant he was tameable to a degree.

He also didn’t want Dipper to go nonverbal again. It probably wasn’t good for the children to witness so much violence. He … was never going to sacrifice their safety no matter the reason, but he would avoid further psychological scarring when possible.

“Great-Uncle Ford, he’s Mermando’s family,” Dipper said.

“And this _fish man_ already attacked us once!”

“You left out the part where he was cute,” Stan said, still staring at Marcos.

“ _Stanley_! He tried to rape you, then eat you!”

Ford had said it before he had thought the statement through.

Stan glared at him, his face a mixture of hurt, anger, and betrayal. Ford covered his mouth with his free hand.

Ford didn’t dare look at anyone else. He didn’t want to see their reactions.

Stan stood up, eyes hard.

“Back to the car. Now.”

Ford holstered his gun, and Stan and Ford went back to the car.

They sat in the car, Stan in the driver’s seat and Ford in shotgun, in silence for a long time.

Spitfire meanwhile pulled Janice and the twins closer to him, further away from the water.

“Is, uh, your cousin safe?” Mabel asked.

“Relatively. He won’t hurt you, I can promise you that. You and Dipper and your friends are safe. And now that your uncles are off-limits, they will be too,” Mermando said, looking very uncomfortable. “Right, Marcos?”

“Sí.”

“He understands English, but can’t speak it,” Mermando explained.

“Okay,” Mabel said.

Spitfire, however, wasn’t convinced, and neither was Fiddleford, so the beach trip was cut short, though Mabel got to get Mermando to agree to meeting her again at the Gravity Falls lake. And that he’d leave Marcos somewhere else.

As they walked back to the car, the kids could hear Mermando yelling at Marcos in Spanish. None of them really knew what he was saying, though.

The car ride was incredibly tense and quiet.

And it got worse when Dipper spoke up.

“Great-Uncle Ford?”

“Yes, Dipper?”

“What’s the meaning of that word you used?”

“Pardon?”

“That word that … apparently no one liked hearing. The R one. What’s it mean?”

“Dipper, we had that talk,” Stan said. “Last year, remember?”

“We did?”

“Oh…. Um, Grunkle Stan, that was actually me. Dipper and I had swapped bodies thanks to Grunkle Ford’s body-switching carpet after we discovered his bedroom.”

“Oh. _Oh_.”

Grunkle Stan then stopped the car gently and looked over his shoulder at them.

“Didn’t your parents give you a form of the talk, kid?”

Mabel and Dipper looked at each other.

“What … talk?”

“Mom and Dad … kind of said he wouldn’t need it.”

“Why’d they say that?”

Mabel shrugged. 

“What talk? About what?”

Stan sighed, then started driving again.

“If it’s for the reason I’m thinking it is, I’m gonna kill your parents,” Stan said, and while surely an exaggeration, Stan’s voice sounded rather angry and serious. Though that could’ve been from his general bad mood. 

When they got to the mansion, the children got changed and Stan got into something much less wet.

Ford avoided Stan and helped Fiddleford with dinner. Spitfire knocked on Stan’s bedroom door.

“Who is it?” Stan asked.

“It’s me,” Spitfire said.

“C’m’ in.”

Spitfire opened the door, and he saw Stan in a button-up and a different set of jeans. Stan must not have realized his shirt wasn’t pulled all the way down in the back, though. Spitfire barely recognized the article of clothing underneath as a corset. The discovery was rather surprising, but he said nothing of it.

“Are you okay?” Spitfire asked.

Stan fixed his shirt a bit more, not answering right away.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stan said.

Spitfire figured he was lying. He might not know his tells as well as Ford did, but Spitfire could tell when he was lying.

He had lied about the bruises and broken wrist way back when, and he had lied to plenty of cops on Jimmy’s and Spitfire’s behalf.

He was lying now, but he also knew there was nothing to do about it. If Stan didn’t want to tell him, he wasn’t going to find out.

“All right. If … you want to talk about anything, you know where to find me.”

Stan turned his head and smiled at him.

“Thanks. I’m … sorry it didn’t go well. I’m … sorry that happened in front of your kid.”

Spitfire took a deep breath, then let it out through his nose.

“I am too,” he said.

He had never been one to lie.

_“Tell it to me straight; you’ve got a thing for my man, don’t you, Frank?” Jimmy asked through a haze of cigar smoke and booze on his breath._

_“Y-yeah, I do,” Spitfire admitted, trembling in fear._

_Jimmy laughed as though that was the funniest thing he had ever heard._

“It’s not your fault, though,” Spitfire said.

“Feels like it is,” Stan said under his breath.

Spitfire probably hadn’t supposed to been able to hear it, but he had, and he moved closer and put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. He gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Do you want company right now?” Spitfire asked.

“Not really, but thanks for the offer,” Stan said. “I’ve gotta … mentally prepare myself to explaining it to Dipper.”

“Do you want me to take a crack at it?”

Stan shook his head.

“Family should do it.”

“All right. I’ll … see you at dinner.”

Stan nodded, then Spitfire let go of his shoulder and went out.

Stan sat on the edge of the bed and started to stare at the wall.

He knew it was just hypnotism. An illusion created to distract him from his impending devouring.

But even though he shouldn’t, he missed Jimmy, and that merman’s illusions were starting to feel like a drug he was getting hooked on.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are mentions of incidents of rape, but the actual sexual content in this chapter is consensual in a . . . kinky/BDSM sort of way. Lots of talk of sex and reflections on rape and some implied but not described sex. 
> 
> Here's a reminder that Marcos is cirilee's original character. The tag on tumblr is "Foxy Merman AU."
> 
> Spanish edited by: http://trashofdoom.tumblr.com/

The talk with Dipper had been … stressful for both of them.

Stan had allowed some time to pass before sitting him down and talking to him in private, but it did nothing to erase the knowledge that Ford had said that Marcos the jellyfish merman had attempted to rape his uncle when they had first met.

Stan hadn’t launched right into that topic. It eventually came up later, after he established the general stuff about puberty and sex and how babies are made. Dipper said he already knew how babies were made, but when Dipper told Stan, he could tell he didn’t actually know how the sperm reached the egg.

“The mom and dad decide to have a baby, and then the mom tells her body to have the sperm pockets go to the eggs and -”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Did your mom tell you that?”

“N-no, they don’t tell me anything about that. I guessed. ‘Cause where else would it come from?”

Stan sighed heavily. Then he corrected Dipper, explaining what their ball sacs were for, then explained how the sperm got inside the womb in the first place.

Stan was used to the look on Dipper’s face because Ford always got that look when the topic of sex came up. It was on Ford’s face when they first got the talk, and it never really stopped coming onto his face when they’d talk about it. Stan could sometimes accurately guess that somehow a thought about sex had come up in Ford’s head, and he’d make the exact same face.

Stan had a lot to cover for Dipper. He was too old to know nothing, but it meant the conversation was exhausting.

They talked about how the body changes during puberty and how all of that is normal, they talked about sex and how to have it safely, and Stan answered most of the questions Dipper asked. He only shied from answering if they prodded too much into Stan’s own relationship history.

But he admitted that he had had sex with both men and women.

“Who was it with?”

Stan opted to give Dipper the consensual instances.

“Carla McCorkle was the first girl I was ever with. The first guy was Jimmy.”

Dipper’s nose scrunched up, but he didn’t say anything.

It was technically a lie, but Carla really had been the first woman he had ever been with. He hadn’t told anyone about the real first guy.

It had stuck with him for a long time, and maybe it still did. But he had chosen not to think about it after his mood finally lifted. After he had been able to feel happy again. He had pushed it to the back of his mind.

He only thought about it sometimes. The memory had resurfaced as it happened again in prison and during the time he was hooking for extra cash.  
It sometimes surprised him in the middle of a day or while he was minding his own business. Sometimes it was triggered by other people’s conversation or the television.

But he continued to ignore it.

Then Stan geared the conversation towards what you were supposed to do if a rape occurred.

In Stan’s experience, he had done absolutely none of it aside from getting tested for diseases. He had never reported a damn thing to police. He took showers after. But he didn’t want Dipper to do what he did.

He knew he was self-destructive, and a part of him felt like he deserved it.

But just because he felt that way didn’t mean he wanted Dipper to feel that way. He wanted Dipper to be able to take care of himself properly. He wanted Dipper to be safe. He didn’t want Dipper to have to live in fear and knowing that people who hurt him are still out there.

He knew he dropped the ball some on that because of Jimmy. He certainly didn’t want to drop the ball on this too.

Stan talked about how to tell if a situation was rape and how to determine if someone is a pedophile or not. He and Dipper tried not to make eye contact as he talked about this part.

Dipper noticed that Stan ended up trailing off and staring off into space, as though remembering something, and it made Dipper sick to his stomach. He felt like puking.

The sea also didn’t feel like a safe place anymore, not with Marcos in the water, and Dipper wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to go back near it ever again.

Stan tried to end the conversation on a positive note, say how as long as both parties agreed to do it, sex was a good, healthy thing to have, and that no matter who Dipper fell in love with, he and Ford and Mabel would always love him, and if he never wanted to have sex, that was fine and good too. ‘Cause Ford didn’t, and he and Ford would have that in common.

But he didn’t think he was all that successful.

After the conversation, neither of them really wanted to leave the house. Stan mostly watched TV all day after that, and Dipper mostly watched Janice and Mabel as they talked and played.

As he watched TV, Stan ended up falling asleep in the chair, and Spitfire had noticed first and found a blanket to put over him.

_“Hey, hey. Kitten, it’s okay. It’s okay. Breathe.”_

_“I’m sorry, I - I really do want to - !”_

_“I believe you, kitten. But if you’re not ready, I’m not gonna force you.”_

_“You’re - you’re not?”_

_“Hell no - !” Jimmy caught himself, then took a breath. “Do you wanna talk about it?”_

_“N-no. No, I - no.” A beat. “Let’s … just not touch me there.”_

_“Foreplay’s gonna be kinda hard if I can’t touch your dick, sweetheart.”_

_“Who said I needed it?”_

_Jimmy laughed. “Whatever you say. Do you wanna stop?”_

_“… At least for a little while.”_

_“Okay.”_

Stan woke up, and for a moment he wasn’t sure how or why. Then he smelled the fried chicken wafting from the kitchen.

Dipper wasn’t at dinner, and Mabel was frowning.

“Where’s Dipper?” Ford asked, having been helping McGucket with working on his project and dinner and thus having not really been interacting with the children today.

“Upstairs,” Mabel said, sounding morose. “His tummy’s bothering him.”

Stan himself was picking at his food and honestly couldn’t blame Dipper. The kid had enough of a hard time eating thanks to that eating disability, and his anxiety upset his stomach so bad that he could practically puke on demand when worked up enough.

Stan ate what he could, then got up and wrapped the plate up and put it in the fridge.

“You okay, Stan?” Ford asked as Stan did so.

“Yeah, just not that hungry. But it was good. Thanks, McGucket.”

“It’s my pleasure, Stanley. But you can call me Fiddleford.”

“Right,” Stan said, only half paying attention.

When everyone else had gone to get ready for bed, Stan headed out, being as quiet as possible about it.

He wasn’t going all the way out to the ocean. That’d be stupid and a waste of gas.

Going to the lake would be close enough.

No one was supposed to be at the lake after hours, and definitely not this late at night, but Stan didn’t care. Tate would’ve been asleep by this point and unable to stop him unless he made a lot of unnecessary noise.

He just sat there on the bank for a while, staring out at the moonlight reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Then he noticed the ripples on the lake.

He had no idea how Marcos would’ve known he was there. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just saw a person on the bank and wanted a midnight snack.

“Hola,” Stan greeted.

“¿Que está usted haciendo aquí?”

Stan didn’t say anything for a while.

“No puedes comerme,” he said, his hands moving to remove his belt.

The grin on Marcos’s face was positively predatory.

There was a possibility this was somehow some kind of leftover mind control effect. But Stan highly doubted it. The hypnosis really didn’t last if Marcos wasn’t making eye contact with him or wasn’t in the general area. So it didn’t make any sense for him to somehow be able to control him when so far away from him.

Maybe it was just one of those things that the Big Man Upstairs had planned for you. Or fate or whatever. Stan wasn’t sure he believed in all that.

He kept his shirt and corset on.

“Haz lo de hipnosis por favor,” Stan requested.

Marcos gave a low, smooth chuckle. _Oh_ , that voice was nice. Maybe if he wasn’t feeling so needy, he wouldn’t need the brain magic.

“Que humano tan travieso eres.”

Stan made eye contact with Marcos as his eyes changed, and soon he lost himself in the illusion.

He had no real reason to trust him, but he felt … he felt … .

He really missed Jimmy.

“Aw, what’s the matter, kitten? I think I know something that could cheer you up,” Stan heard in his ear, and it matched the image he was receiving.

This was different from before, from when the intention was to eat him. He could feel that what was holding him were not hands or arms or other human body parts. He could feel that it was tentacles, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His brain both believed it was Jimmy he was kissing and knew that it couldn’t be.

But Marcos was a _really_ good kisser.


	17. Chapter 17

Stan had gotten back to the mansion early in the morning. He discarded his shirt in the laundry, then took his corset off and hung it up to dry. He didn’t have a second one, but he’d need to dry-clean it.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to have the energy to actually go anywhere with the kids today. Maybe he could help Fiddleford and Ford with their project or something…. Maybe the kids wouldn’t want to go anywhere. He’d figure something out.

Fiddleford had woken up first that morning, as he was becoming in the habit of doing now that Beatrice had crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Thinking he’d start in on the laundry before breakfast, he made his way to the laundry room, the pitter-patter of his naked feet echoing down the hall.

Stan slipped behind the laundry room door, hoping not to be caught.

He still smelled like dirty lake water and would need to shower in order to get some of the sand and dirt out of unpleasant places.

Stan listened to Fiddleford humming something as he dropped the laundry basket onto the floor, then started to rotate the laundry from one machine to the next.

Stan hesitated, wondering if he could make it passed him to head back to his room.

“Hm?”

Stan froze and stayed put.

“What’s this?”

Stan peeked around the door to see that Fiddlefold had grabbed his corset and was examining it. Stan quickly moved back to completely hide behind the door. He waited for Fiddleford to just … put it back and go about his business.

He could hear Fiddleford sniffing it.

“Yuck! Well, into the wash it goes.”

“Wait - !” Stan said, cursing himself.

He couldn’t afford to buy another one, he didn’t care what Ford said about Fiddleford’s money. There was no way he was going to buy a _corset_ on Fiddleford’s dollar.

Fiddleford stared at him, and Stanley could feel his face heating up.

He had been hiding without a shirt on in Fiddleford’s laundry room and was standing there, not even wearing his undershirt (because that was wet too).

He’d probably feel more embarrassed if it was Ford or Spitfire who had caught him; he at least knew that Fiddleford already knew he had tummy fat, since Stan hadn’t used to still wear the corset while on a boat and had been fishing on the lake quite a bit. And Tate kept the lake in check, and Fiddleford hung around the lake a lot as a result….

He was still blushing, though, and he didn’t know how he was going to get out of this without completely embarrassing himself.

“It - it’s dry clean only, it just needs a place to dry out until I can get it properly cleaned,” Stan said. “The wires in it will break and stab if it goes through the wash.”

“Oh!” Fiddleford then put it back where he had found it. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

An awkward silence stretched between them.

“What’re you doin’ up so early?” Fiddleford asked.

“I, uh … .” C’mon, Stan, you lied for a living for most of your life. You had to be able to think of something.

But he found himself speechless somehow.

“I hadn’t ever gone to bed,” Stan admitted, still red in the face.

“Oh.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment, and Fiddleford sniffed the air a bit, looking back at the corset.

“Why does it smell like lake water?”

“Fell in,” Stan lied. “I, uh, might’ve … had a date… . Please don’t tell Ford.”

“Oh, well, okay.”

Stan still felt out of place, and Fiddleford didn’t seem to feel any less awkward.

“I, uh, I’ll leave you to it. Uh, bye.”

And Stan quickly exited the laundry room and scurried to his bedroom.

Fiddleford shrugged, then continued to do the laundry.

Stanley was pretty sure he could do this, leave his room without his corset. He wasn’t embarrassed about the kids seeing it, it was more … .

Technically, he knew Ford knew about it. But Spitfire didn’t, and he … .

He missed having a thinner waist, he missed his shoulders being broad and un-hunched. Dipper was right when he described his body posture as “gargoyle” and normally he didn’t care, but… .

He had to sleep either way, so he took a shower, then crawled into bed.

He heard a knock at the door when he woke up, and he opened his eyes and sat up just enough to see Fiddleford poke his head in.

“I, uh, went ahead and got it dry-cleaned for you. Since I figured you’d want it clean as soon as possible.”

Fiddleford placed it on the dresser.

“You take your time. I hope you don’t mind, but I told the others that you had had a busy night doin’ Stanley things.”

Stan smiled a bit.

“Well, it was Stanley things, in its own way,” Stan said.

The two of them laughed a bit, then Fiddleford told him there was food for him in the refrigerator that he could heat up in the microwave if he was hungry. He then went away, closing the door behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for vomit.

Fishing had been Ford’s idea, despite the fact that he wasn’t overly interested in it.

“I thought you were sick of having fish,” Stan remarked as they got ready.

“Yeah, well, I know you enjoy the activity, and it sounded like a good idea,” Ford said.

While Fiddleford had more money than he knew what to do with now, he had not purchased his own boat. Since making up with his son, he was mostly interested in visiting with Tate when he did show up at the lake.

“Stanley, why don’t you go with Fiddleford? I heard Tate has some new boats, maybe we could rent one of the newer ones,” Ford said, and Stanley didn’t put up a fight about it.

However, as soon as Stan was out of earshot, Ford put a hand on Spitfire’s shoulder and made some kind of comment about busying themselves with the purchasing of bait at the little stand selling bait. It was conveniently situated outside instead of inside the building that Tate’s office was in, and the way Ford was starting to talk about the fishing and going out onto the lake was starting to sound off to Dipper.

“Great-Uncle Ford?” Dipper said.

“Yes, Dipper?”

“What’s this about?”

“What’s what about?”

“This is the second time you’ve convinced Grunkle Stan to go off alone with McGucket and done something to keep us and Spitfire away from them.”

Ford stilled as he examined the bait he was wanting to purchase.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, Dipper’s right!” Mabel said, starting to frown and putting her hands on her hips. “You’re not trying to get in the way of our plan, are you?”

“Plan?” Spitfire asked, unaware.

“Uh, Daddy, where’s the restroom here?” Janice said, thinking quickly.

Spitfire took Janice by the hand, and Janice gave Mabel and Dipper a thumbs-up as they walked away.

Out of earshot from Janice, Ford had less issues with voicing his thoughts honestly.

“Do you two really think Spitfire is the best option for Stan? Really, really think so?” Ford said. “Fiddleford is obviously the better option here.”

“McGucket was married just a week or so ago, and his heart is still aching from the loss of Beatrice!” Mabel said, looking rather disappointed in him. “And McGucket’s not Grunkle Stan’s type.”

“Yeah. No offense to McGucket or anything, he’s a great guy, but Grunkle Stan likes ‘em big and bad boys. Spitfire’s got the right look, but has a personality and general vibe that’s safe and approachable and won’t backhand him in the face,” Dipper said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know about you, but I didn’t see Spitfire lift one finger to help Stan when he really needed the help. I am grateful for what he did for us regarding the Shack, but when it comes to Stanley’s safety, he doesn’t make the cut.” Ford argued.

“And McGucket does? Spitfire wasn’t the only one who didn’t stand up to Jimmy Snakes, Great-Uncle Ford.”

“Fiddleford is the entire reason we were able to get into the Fearamid thanks to the Shack-o-Tron,” Ford countered. “He fought alongside us during Weirdmageddon and was invaluable when it came to defeating Bill.”

“Because of a prophecy from a really, really long time ago. Fate literally required McGucket to be there, whether he liked us or not,” Mabel argued. “Like Gideon and Robbie and Pacifica.”

“Isn’t Pacifica your friend?” Ford asked.

“She is now,” Mabel said, “but she didn’t start out to be, and Gideon definitely isn’t. Spitfire chose to show up in Gravity Falls to help with Weirdmageddon!”

“Because Jimmy asked him to!”

“That’s your main reason for not liking him, isn’t it? ‘Cause he took Jimmy’s call? That was before you even had met him!” Dipper said.

“It means he’s still on friendly terms with that monster, and we can’t risk Stan ever meeting that jerk ever again!”

“You really think Spitfire would put Grunkle Stan in danger like that? Have you seen how he looks at him!? Spitfire adores Stan, he’d never do something like that!” Mabel said.

“Yeah, we heard the same stories you did on the RV ride! And Janice says he doesn’t like talking about Jimmy! Jimmy’s clearly been an asshole to both of them - !”

“Dipper!”

“He’s clearly been a jerk to both of them, and it’s not their fault if they can’t stand up to him like we can!”

Ford’s face made it clear that he disagreed with them on that, at least as far as Spitfire was concerned, but he didn’t get to retort.

“And even if all of that wasn’t the case, McGucket still just lost his wife! He’s not ready for a boyfriend or girlfriend or anything else! Grunkle Stan needs a new beau now before something bad happens.”

“Wait, we’re on a time limit?” Dipper asked her.

“Well, kinda,” Mabel said. “Mostly because Grunkle Stan has … a history of bad boyfriends. And girlfriends. And the less we have to worry about him finding a bad one, the better.”

“And that’s why I’ve elected Fiddleford as his new love interest! Fiddleford has money, so Stanley wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again, he’s kind and gentlemanly and polite and would do everything in his power to make Stanley happy - !”

“But Grunkle Stan can’t be a rebound, Grunkle Ford! How many times do I have to say it? McGucket - just - lost - his - wife!”

Dipper’s eyes widened as something occurred to him.

“Cyanide,” Dipper said, almost too quietly.

“What?” Mabel said, turning her head to look at him.

“Cyanide. Apple seeds contain cyanide.”

“Uh … what does that have to do with anything?” Mabel asked.

Dipper stared up at Ford, eyes wide and skin developing goosebumps.

“Dipper?” Ford asked, his face not betraying anything.

“Great-Uncle Ford, d-did you poison Beatrice to get her out of the way?” Dipper asked, almost not believing the question was even falling from his lips.

Both Ford and Mabel stared at him, Mabel looking shocked.

“Dipper! How could you ask something like that!?”

“Why would you think that, Dipper?” Ford asked, his voice not giving anything away.

“B-because I - I saw you feeding her parts of your apple and - !”

“Animals like apples. I cut the core out,” Ford said.

Dipper was trying so hard to remember how the apple had looked when Ford had been eating it. It had looked a little weird, but he hadn’t been focusing on it, on either occasion. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t -

“B-but she was a perfectly healthy raccoon otherwise!” Dipper said, terrified of being wrong after having said such a terrible thing.

But he also didn’t want to be right.

“He’s family, and he’s McGucket’s friend! That’d be a horrible thing to do, and Grunkle Ford isn’t a horrible person! He wouldn’t do that to him just to get Grunkle Stan a boyfriend, Dipper!”

The more they lingered on the topic, the more horrible Dipper felt for even thinking it, let alone voicing it.

“It’s not completely unreasonable to ask the question, Mabel. Cyanide is certainly in apple seeds, and it would be reprehensible if I had done such a thing.”

“But you didn’t, right?” Mabel asked.

“I value Fiddleford’s friendship immensely.”

“See, Dipper? He totally didn’t do that.”

Dipper’s stomach was tying into knots. He felt sick.

Why would he think that? Why would he think Great-Uncle Ford could’ve done that? Great-Uncle Ford loved them and Stan and Fiddleford, he’d never hurt them like that. And - and doing such a thing to someone’s beloved animal would be - be sociopathic or something. Great-Uncle Ford wasn’t like that…!

What was wrong with him?

“I - I’m sorry - !”

“Dipper - ?” Ford said, but Dipper ducked his head, arms hugging his stomach.

“I have to go!” Dipper said quickly, and he ran for the bathroom.

He passed Janice and Spitfire as he went, keeping his head down and hoping he wouldn’t puke before he reached the toilet.

He didn’t have time to close the stall behind him as he reached the toilet and emptied his stomach’s contents into it.

He wasn’t sure how long he crouched there, hands gripping the edges of the toilet bowl. But eventually he heard voices enter the bathroom.

“I think this was a mistake. Fish smell, and I hadn’t expected to get sea sick on a lake of all things,” Gideon’s voice floated over. “Dipper Pines? Are you okay?”

Dipper puked more in response.

“Oh my. Ghost Eyes, go find Stanley Pines, will you please?”

“I’m on it.”

Dipper dry-heaved a few times, hot tears rolling down his face by this point. He felt a hand on his back, and a sob escaped his mouth.

How could he have thought that Great-Uncle Ford could’ve done something bad like that … ?

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I bet there’s some pain killers or something at the little shop stand -” Gideon started to say, but Dipper shook his head.

“I - I did something bad - !” Dipper said, then his stomach introduced him to more bile.

“… What?” Gideon asked, but Dipper was unable to answer.

Ghost Eyes returned with Stan, and Stan took Gideon’s place at rubbing Dipper’s back and trying to soothe him.

When Dipper finally stopped puking, Stan flushed the toilet for him and picked him up.

“Fishing will have to be for another day, I think, right, Dipper?”

Dipper nodded, head now resting on Stan’s shoulder.

“Let’s wash your mouth out a bit, then head back to the mansion. That sound good?”

Dipper nodded again.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Gideon asked.

“Yeah, this happens sometimes. He’ll be fine,” Stan said.

Dipper could see Gideon’s face in the bathroom mirror as Stan let him wash his mouth out with the sink water. Gideon did not look convinced.

Back at the mansion, Mabel and Janice let Dipper put on Ghost Harassers, though Janice apparently didn’t like that show.

Or rather - “Mom doesn’t let me watch TV I can’t learn something from.”

“Ghost Harassers teaches some stuff. About ghosts.”

“Yeah, but … Mom doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

“Well, she’d pretty much hate it here then. We’ve met three so far,” Dipper said.

Dipper refused lunch, and later Stan brought Dipper a meal-replacement shake (chocolate flavor) and an ice pop.

Then the phone rang, and Fiddleford answered it.

“Hello! McGucket residence. Oh! Yes, of course. Dipper, it’s for you!”

Dipper, confused, picked up the phone from the living room and put the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, uh, Dipper,” said Gideon’s voice on the other end.

“Uh, hey. What’s up?”

This was weird….

“I was just checking up on you. ‘Cause I was worried, ‘cause you said you were puking and said you had done something bad…. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I just … puke when I get really stressed out or when I try to eat something I can’t actually swallow. ‘Cause of … reasons involving … stuff.”

He didn’t really feel like outing himself as disabled to Gideon.

It took him a moment to realize how it might’ve sounded to Gideon.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, no, I didn’t try to poison myself, oh my gosh, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way! Oh my gosh oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I must’ve scared the crap out of you!”

Gideon started to laugh a little bit.

“Well, thank goodness! Even if we weren’t on good terms now, I still wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself!” Gideon said, and Dipper laughed along. But Dipper could tell they were both laughing to try to avoid the awkwardness. “We - we are on good terms now, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

They weren’t really friends and definitely not best friends or anything like that, but they were on better terms now. Gideon hadn’t actually been creepy since they showed up, and they’d been in town for a while now. No more creepy love letters to Mabel, just a simple greeting when he first saw them back in town, and he had actually been comforting and kind when Dipper had been at a weak point.

“Well. Good. Um. If - if you ever want to talk to somebody about … bad stuff, if it’ll, y’know, help with … not puking, you can always ring me up. If you want. You don’t have to of course.”

“Actually … thanks for the offer, Gideon. I’ll keep it in mind. Again, sorry for - for earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. Well, good night, Dipper!”

“Night.”

Dipper hung up and slumped further into the chair he was sitting in.

“Who was that?” Mabel asked, though she had been within earshot to hear the name.

“Gideon.”

“Oh. W-what did he want?”

“He was just calling to see how I was doing, since he had found me in the bathroom, puking my guts everywhere.”

“Oh…. Really? Just that?”

Dipper shrugged. “It’s all he mentioned.”

“Well … good,” Mabel said.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: more vomit mentions. Referenced experiences in a '70s mental institution.

The week of Summerween had finally arrived, and Pacifica, Candy, and Grenda had all come over to McGucket’s mansion so that they could all brainstorm and talk about what their costume theme was going to be.

“So the way that the haunted house is going to work is that you go through the haunted house, and then the exit deposits you into a Halloween party, and there’s going to be a costume contest with different categories, and there is no way I’m losing to anybody, but I don’t mind sharing the glory, so if we have themed costumes, we can win the “Group” category if we all match,” Pacifica said.

“Don’t worry, I’m a master at matching costumes!” Mabel said. “Dipper and I go together all the time!”

“Yeah, last year we were Peanut Butter and Jelly,” Dipper said. “And for Halloween we were Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford.”

“Wait, you were?” Ford asked as he passed the kids’ brainstorming session in the kitchen.

“Yup! Did we not show you those pictures?” Mabel said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I have them on the phone!” 

So after they laughed over the photos of Mabel and Dipper’s Halloween costumes, they started actually brainstorming on the Summerween costumes.

Janice didn’t want to be anything scary, though wasn’t willing to explain why, and that disappointed Pacifica but she didn’t put up too much of a fight, but then they started going over non-scary/creepy costume ideas and they just kept arguing over what was the best idea.

In the end, Dipper spoke up, “Do all of us have to have themed costumes? Or should a smaller group of us match and the rest of us do whatever?”

“I suppose, but I am still kicking all your butts in the Group division,” Pacifica said. “If I’m not in Janice’s costume group, I definitely want to do something scary.”

“I actually would enjoy doing a scary costume as well,” Candy said.

“In that case, let’s do this in twos,” Dipper said. “Pacifica and Candy can do a scary themed costume, and the rest of us will figure out what we’re doing.”

“How do you feel about fictional serial killers?” Candy asked Pacifica. “I like Freddy Kreuger.”

“Hmmm. I’ll admit, I don’t know much about them, but I like that Alien movie.”

“I am willing to count the alien from Alien as an other-worldly serial killer.”

“That might be too big a stretch, though.”

“What if you’re Ripley and I’m the Alien?”

“But -”

And their back-and-forth continued on a very similar vein.

Dipper took advantage of the situation.

“Hey, why don’t you and Janice do a costume theme together?” he asked Mabel.

“But - but we always do the matching costumes,” Mabel said, frowning.

“I know, and it’s not that I don’t want to this year, but Janice doesn’t really know Grenda that well.”

“Maybe we should agree on themes first, then pair up,” Mabel said. “‘Cause if Grenda and Janice both want to do the same theme, then they should definitely pair up. Right, Janice?”

“Uh, yeah. That sounds fair,” Janice said, blushing and fidgeting slightly.

“Grenda, what do you wanna do?” Dipper asked.

“Superheroes! I wanna be Catwoman! Or the Hulk!”

“Superheroes could be fun,” Mabel said. “What do you think, Janice?”

“Um, I don’t know too many outside of Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman….” Janice admitted, looking embarrassed.

“Ooooh, you’d be a great Wonder Woman!” Mabel said.

Dipper didn’t know if he was hoping for too much when Mabel said that, but he swore Mabel looked a bit overly excited at the idea of Janice in a Wonder Woman costume.

“B-but she shows off a bit much….” Janice said, looking awkward and blushing more. “A-and she’s white….”

“It’s a Summerween costume, who cares what color Wonder Woman is?” Grenda said. “Catwoman isn’t fat, and the Hulk isn’t a girl, and that’s not stopping me.”

“If Janice isn’t comfortable with it, she doesn’t have to. What’s important is that she’s having fun,” Dipper said. “Though I agree, I think you’d be a great Wonder Woman. And I bet we could use that panty-hose fabric to make it less revealing. Or whatever it’s called. But whatever you want to do.” A pause, then, “Actually, I have a good superhero idea, so I can team up with Grenda, and you and Mabel can do whatever you both agree on.”

“Awesome! Team Superhero is a go!”

Grenda and Dipper high-fived, and Dipper let out a little “ow.”

Mabel and Janice ended up settling on farm animal costumes, so Mabel got super excited and talked Janice into being Waddles and Gompers.

The week following up to Summerween was full of costume-making, and Stan, Ford, Spitfire, and Fiddleford got wrapped into dressing up as well.

Stan and Ford decided on being Frankenstein’s Monster and Dracula (Stan being Dracula, Ford being the monster), Spitfire allowed Mabel to make him a farmer costume. Fiddleford was the only one without a costume, but he was dressing up in a formal suit (like Preston Northwest and his wife would be) since he was essentially hosting the event.

“Does this look okay?” Fiddleford asked, presenting for Stan, Ford, and Spitfire while the children worked on costumes.

It was a black suit with a pink tie and a rather puffy formal shirt.

“It looks wonderful, Fiddleford,” Ford said. “Very becoming.”

Stan snickered a little, and Ford shot Stan a glare, and Stan just shrugged.

“It looks good,” Stan said, though he had a weird little smirk on his face.

“Very nice choice of tie,” Spitfire volunteered, though Spitfire also wasn’t sure if his opinion was even wanted on the issue. FIddleford was Ford’s friend, after all, and Ford didn’t like Spitfire, and he had no idea if or what Ford had told FIddleford about him. Though Fiddleford had been nothing but nice to him.

“You really think so?” Fiddleford asked.

“We wouldn’t lie to you, Fiddleford,” Ford assured him. Stan still had that weird look on his face, though.

So on the day of Summerween, they all went to where the haunted house was set up, out where the fair had been last year.

Grenda ended up dressing up as Catwoman, and Dipper had donned his biker outfit again, but did his face make-up to look his best like the Ghost Rider from the Marvel comics. Mabel was Waddles, Janice was Gompers, and Candy and Pacifica had ended up settling on Ripley and the alien from Alien.

Stan furrowed his eyebrows as they walked closer to the haunted house. Why did it look more like a hospital from the outside? Like, a very small hospital?

It wasn’t until they crossed the threshold that Stan realized why.

It was mental-institution-themed.

Stan didn’t make it too many footsteps into it, and the others hadn’t noticed Stan had just stopped in the middle of the hallway.

He hadn’t really thought of that place in so many years….

“Stanley?”

The voice sounded so far away.

“Stanley, are you all right?”

“H-huh?”

He was staring at someone, but he couldn’t really process who it was. He saw ghosts of the doctors and nurses and other patients, and he could hear the ranting and raving of some of the bleaker cases, but Stan had never feared them as much as he had feared Doctor - !

“Here, let’s go out this emergency exit.”

He felt someone guiding him, and at first he panicked, but he found he couldn’t actually make himself react outside of letting himself be pulled along.

Stan Pines knew how to fight back, he knew how to run, and yet there were so many instances where he simply froze in fear. Mostly when there was no one else to protect.

Once they were outside, Stan realized he was hyperventilating.

“It’s okay. Breathe. It’ll be okay.”

He recognized the voice better now. It was Fiddleford.

“Did - did Ford and the kids - ?”

“No, the children were too focused on the special effects, and Ford and Spitfire on the kids.”

“G-good. Good.”

Stan slid down the wall of the haunted house, ignoring the recorded screams and the screams of the kids inside.

He sighed heavily. Fiddleford sat next to him.

“You’re gonna get your suit dirty,” Stan said.

“That doesn’t matter right now.”

Stan looked over at him. Then he took a deep breath.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Ford or Spitfire? I told Dipper and Mabel, but cracked jokes about it, made it like it wasn’t a big deal, but … .”

“Any secret you decide to share is perfectly safe with me, Stanley,” Fiddleford said.

“I … after I got out of prison the first time, after Jimmy ditched me, I … I had some really big trouble with my traveling salesman thing, even considering that I was basically a scam artist. It had been a really, really bad stretch of time before I got to Columbia…. And part of that time frame was spent in a mental institution. 1975 I think the year was….”

Fiddleford’s eyes widened.

“Oh. Oh dear, I hadn’t - the Northwests and I never even considered - oh donkey spittle, I’m so sorry, Stanley, we never meant this to hurt anybody - !”

“I know. It’s - it’s okay, it’s … not like anyone really thinks about that kind of stuff. I’m a tough cookie, I promise, I just … wasn’t expecting it, I guess…. And Ford and Spitfire don’t know, and Spitfire always looked up to me back in the day, and he’s, like, my little brother or something, y’know? So I don’t wanna look … look dumb or anything, and I just don’t want Ford to know, and it’s so stupid to still get … bent out of shape over it when it was so long ago….”

Stan had broken eye contact with Fiddleford at some point, so he hadn’t been looking at what Fiddleford’s expression was.

“Stanley Pines, look at me.”

Stan did so, and he was a little surprised to see so much conviction on the other man’s face.

“There is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about or feel ashamed of. When bad things happen, it’s hard to shake off how you feel about it. Especially if it was … very, very bad. Even if you don’t remember, the effects still linger. There’s nothing wrong with struggling with it.”

The silence that followed was strong, but not awkward or uncomfortable.

“I’ll have to have a talk with Preston, one of us should’ve thought of that. I don’t blame Pacifica none, she’s a child, but we should’ve set a better example. I can show you where the back door to the party is if you’d like.”

Stan smiled at Fiddleford a bit.

“Actually, I … think I’m gonna check on someone first. But you can show me where it is so I can come back and meet up with everyone later.”

“That sounds fine to me, Stanley. Who are you checking up on?”

“Oh, just someone I know.”

As they walked, Fiddleford gave him a knowing look that Stan had never seen on the man’s face before.

“Is it who you went on that date with?”

Stan laughed a little.

“Yeah.”

“They’re welcome to come to the party too, if they’d like.”

“I don’t think they’ll be able to make it, but thanks.”

So after Fiddleford showed Stanley where it was, Stan then bid Fiddleford farewell and headed for the lake.

Ford had noticed much later that Stanley was missing, so he told the kids and Spitfire that he’d meet them at the end of the haunted house and back-tracked to find him. But without knowing that Fiddleford had taken Stanley outside, he turned up with nothing and was getting incredibly worried.

Stanley disappearing on him hadn’t meant anything good since they had made up. Either it was Marcos trying to eat him, a vampire feeding on him, or a spider-woman tying him up so she could eat him…. Why did monsters think his brother was delicious?

So the kids and Spitfire ended up finishing the haunted house much earlier than Ford, but when they got there, they saw that Fiddleford was already there.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Pacifica asked.

“Oh, well, Stanley realized he had something to do, and I showed him the exit, and I just came in from the back. He’ll be back soon, though.”

“Something to do? Where’d he go?” Mabel asked, frowning.

“He didn’t say where, just a who.”

“A who?” Dipper said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Who’s he with?”

Fiddleford smiled. “Apparently your uncle found himself a new date-mate.”

“WHAT!?”

The reaction confused Fiddleford, but both twins were now distressed.

“W-w-who is it!?” Dipper asked, his stomach abruptly getting upset. His stress level skyrocketed without warning, and he had no way of controlling it.

“Well, he didn’t really … give a name, but -”

Mabel and Dipper gave each other a look.

“Pacifica, where’s the bathroom?” Mabel asked quickly.

“Over there,” Pacifica said, pointing towards it.

Dipper hurried to the bathroom, knowing that it was just a matter of time, and Mabel stood there, the disco lights making her face sparkly as it reflected off of her braces, but she was too worried now to think about partying.

Janice reached out to hold her hand. Mabel squeezed it in response.

“It - it’ll be okay. We’ll ask him about it when he gets back. Maybe … maybe it’s a good person,” Janice said.

Mabel nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.

Candy, Grenda, Pacifica, and Janice all frowned.

“Hey, there’s bobbing for apples and chocolate fondue and a bunch of candy and snacks,” Pacifica said. “C’mon, you’ll love it.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Mabel said, and she let her friends take her over to the snack table.

When Dipper came out of the bathroom, eating was the very last thing he wanted to do. He mostly just leaned against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. He wasn’t sure he could get anything down, but he did want his mouth to stop tasting like vomit…. He avoided looking at the food table and headed for where the drinks were located. Pacifica and her parents must’ve handled the catering. They had gotten an entire fountain drink dispenser in here.

Dipper grabbed a plastic cup and went to fill it up.

“Hey, Dipper,” came a familiar voice.

“Hi, Gideon,” Dipper said, his mood bleeding into his tone.

“Are you doin’ okay? I saw you dash into the bathroom.”

“I … Grunkle Stan vanished, and McGucket says he has a new significant other, and I have no idea who it is, and Grunkle Stan doesn’t have the best taste in people and he almost got eaten by a spider lady he was flirting with and there was the merman that tried to eat him too and - !”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down there,” Gideon said, moving closer and putting his hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper brought the soda cup to his lips and forced himself to drink what was already in there. Then he actually processed what Gideon was dressed like.

“Is that the outfit you wore during Weirdmageddon?”

“Eh heh, yeah. When people ask, I just say that I’m a cowboy. While I know I … wasn’t the nicest person at the time, I like how the outfit makes me feel.”

Dipper could understand that. It was why he was wearing the biker outfit.

It made him feel braver. Like he could take on anything.

“Mabel dressed up as her pig, and Janice is Grunkle Stan’s pet goat.”

“Awww, cute! And you’re … your uncle’s ex-boyfriend?”

“Ghost Rider. From the comic book series?”

“Oh! Oh, that makes much more sense.”

“Yeah…. Though I guess I … can see how you’d think that.”

There happened to be a mirror for people who had a hard time taking selfies and needed one, and Dipper looked at himself in it. He could definitely see Gideon’s point….

“It’s supposed to go with Grenda’s Catwoman. Superhero theme and … all that.”

Gideon frowned, knowing he had just gone and made Dipper feel bad about his costume choice.

“It looks good,” Gideon said. But Dipper’s stomach was revolting again. He shouldn’t have drank anything.

“I have to wash this off,” Dipper said, and he headed back to the bathroom.

Dipper didn’t expect him too, but Gideon soon appeared in the bathroom with him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything - !”

“No, you’re right. I do look like him in this. I should’ve thought of that instead of just thinking about an excuse to wear my outfit again….”

Dipper turned the sink on and grabbed a paper towel.

“Maybe … maybe that’s why he ditched us.”

Dipper made a gagging sound, then hurried to the toilet. Gideon winced as the sounds of throwing up punched the air.

When Dipper finished, he was wincing in pain.

“Wh-what should I do?” Gideon asked.

Dipper just shook his head, then tried to talk, but winced.

“I’ll - get over it,” Dipper said.

“That can’t be good for your esophagus….”

Dipper shrugged. He was right, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Dipper washed his make-up off, then looked in the mirror. Yup. Definitely looked like himself now….

Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Why … ? He hated Jimmy, why didn’t he … ?

Gideon cleared his throat.

“I, uh, Pacifica let me set up a tarot card reading table. Do you … wanna check it out?”

Dipper thought about it, then nodded.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, voice hoarse. “Sounds fun.”

Gideon led Dipper to the tarot card table, and he explained about tarot card reading and how it worked, and he asked Dipper to ask him a question and they’d see if the cards could answer it. But not to give him too many hints about the situation he’s asking about.

Dipper felt weird when the cards claimed that Ford was indeed being suspicious about Beatrice’s death, though Dipper had phrased the question in a way that Gideon didn’t know he was talking about thinking his other uncle had killed Fiddleford’s raccoon wife so he could set him up with Grunkle Stan. But Dipper also knew that Gideon probably didn’t know what he was doing, since he had only recently picked this up, and he was a fake psychic anyway…. This was just for fun. It didn’t mean anything.

Ford eventually entered the party room, and he had a very similar reaction as Mabel to the news that Stan wasn’t there because of a date-mate.

When Stan finally showed back up, Gideon and Dipper were closer to him than the others. Stan smelled like lake water and sand stuck to his clothes, but he was otherwise dry aside from his hair. And his make-up was gone.

Stan raised an eyebrow at Dipper’s lack of make-up.

“What happened to the hellfire thing you had going on?” Stan asked.

“What happened to the pale look?” Dipper retorted.

“Fair enough.”

“Grunkle Stan, who’s the date-mate?”

“Oh boy.”

Stan sighed.

“Nothing for you to worry about, kid. And it’s not as serious as Fiddleford might’ve made it sound. I just went by to say hi, wish ‘im a happy Summerween, did what … casual unattached people do when sorta interested in each other, then I came back. I wouldn’t really call it a relationship-relationship if you get my meaning.”

“Grunkle Ford’s gonna ask you who it is,” Dipper said.

“I know. You doin’ okay? You look kinda mopey.”

“You really worried us, Grunkle Stan.”

Gideon pretty much just sat there awkwardly, not knowing if it was appropriate to get up and leave or if he should pretend he wasn’t there listening….

Stan frowned, then moved around so he could put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to, kid. But I’m sorry I did that.”

Dipper wasn’t making eye contact, but Dipper often avoided that when he wasn’t feeling so good.

“You should tell Mabel that, and that you’re okay. You are okay, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. And I will. See you in a little bit, okay?”

Dipper nodded and let Stan go over to Mabel and the other girls.

It had been a lot easier to get Mabel to act more like normal, but when Stan appeared, she threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.

“Grunkle Stan! Are you okay? Who’d you go on a date with? Was it a date? Are they a good person? They didn’t hurt you, did they!?”

“One question at a time, Mabel. I’m fine, it wasn’t really a date, just dropped by to say hi, happy Summerween, they’re okay, and I’m completely unhurt.”

“Why do you smell like the lake?”

“No reason. I’m sorry I worried you and Dipper. And Ford.”

Mabel hugged him tightly.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Ford was giving Stanley a hard look at the mention of smelling like the lake, but Stan ignored it.

“So what’s Dipper doing with Gideon?” Mabel asked Stan.

Stan shrugged. “I dunno, looked like fortune telling to me. Ma used to have tons of those tarot card stuff.”

“They’ve been over there, like, the whole time,” Mabel said, frowning.

“Is that bad?” Janice asked.

“No. Yes? I mean,” Mabel said, looking over at Janice. “Gideon’s not exactly our friend. He had this really creepy crush on me and pressured me into dating him, and then he thought Dipper was getting in the way of our relationship, so he tried to kill him, and then he tried to steal the Shack, and … .”

“That’s - that’s a lot,” Janice said, giving Mabel’s hand a squeeze. 

“We’ll keep an eye on ‘em and make sure they don’t go off anywhere, but Dipper can handle himself,” Stan said, trying to comfort Mabel.

Eventually the costume contest happened, and Mabel, Janice, and Spitfire won for Cutest Costume(s).


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Stan's conversation is basically about nothing other than sex and rape, so if either of those things bother you at all, then you'll want to skip this chapter. Nothing is written too specifically or in detail, but you guys take care of yourselves however you need to.

Ford waited until the children were in their rooms and Fiddleford and Spitfire weren’t around to hear.

“You went to meet with Marcos, didn’t you?” Ford demanded, voice heavy with accusation and disapproval. With anger. All those emotions you used to show you were extremely disappointed in someone - and used to try to hide exactly how worried and hurt you were.

“And so what if I did? I’m obviously fine, and I don’t see the damn point in being enemies with someone who’s family with one of the kids’ friends. So I got him to forgive you for electrocuting him and made sure he wouldn’t be a danger to anyone we care about. Better than what I saw you do.”

“If I had had my way, that monster would be dead for what he tried to do to you!”

“Like Darlene.”

How could Stanley be scowling at him?

“Yes, like the spider woman!”

“Tell me, Ford. Have you noticed how Mabel and Dipper have been acting lately?”

“Pardon?”

“When was the last time you saw either kid interact with a spider?”

Ford tried to think of it.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. They were working on their costumes and I had just been passing through, and Grenda was this close to just smushing the little bugger, but Mabel got all freaked out and took it outside. Mabel’s a sweetheart, but she ain’t no vegan and hasn’t ever been the biggest fan of spiders. And we both remember how you blasting your gun off affected Dipper.”

“It was an emergency,” Ford said, though his tone lacked some of its previous bite.

“And I understand that, and I’m glad I’m not actually spider chow getting digested, and I’m thankful the kids are safe now, but you can’t just whip your gun out for every little goddamn thing that threatens our lives. It’s not practical, it’s not good for them, and it’s not good for you either. If you act like a damn lunatic, people are gonna treat you like one.”

Ford flushed.

“But he hurt you,” Ford insisted. He knew he was right to defend Stanley. After all those years of being the one protected, it was his turn to protect Stanley, and Stanley obviously wasn’t very good at doing it himself. If Jimmy and Darlene and Marcos and Esteban the Vampire were any indicators….

He didn’t understand why Stanley couldn’t stand up for himself, why he couldn’t make decisions that would protect himself.

“He hurt you, and you’re just … I don’t even know what you’re doing with him, and I don’t think I want to know.”

Stan didn’t say anything to that.

“It’s in our best interests to have him on our side than against us or dead, Ford. He’s Mermando’s cousin, it’s not fair to Mermando and Mabel’s friendship to put that kind of tension into it. And he’s a merman, you’re a paranormal researcher. I bet there’s tons of research you could get out of him, and I can translate as best I can. I’m still a little rusty, but it could work. And ‘cause I was curious, I asked about the hypnosis thing, and not all of them can actually do it. It’s more of a poisonous mermaid type deal. And it’s not as strong if they do it more than once on the same person, so there’s really no point in it if you can’t just go nom nom nom on ‘em.”

Ford had to admit. The information was intriguing. It definitely should get jotted down. But he didn’t like where this was going.

“Are you seriously asking me to overlook the fact that he tried to rape and eat you so I can get information on mermaids?” Ford asked.

“The mere fact that you keep saying tried instead of did tells me we can handle his shit. I don’t mind, so even if he breaks his word, we can totally take him. And Mermando’s, like, royal family and can chew his ass out, right? I’m right, right?”

“We … we can ask Mabel about that tomorrow….” Ford said, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and uncertain.

He didn’t like this idea. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Marcos. He didn’t mind Mermando, Mermando seemed … nice, if nothing else. But Marcos had threatened Stanley. Threatened his family.

Marcos wasn’t safe, no matter how he sliced it.

This anxiety he felt … it had been in his veins ever since Jimmy Snakes came to their doorstep. It was different from Bill and all the monsters he had faced on the other side of the portal.

This was so different…. And he still didn’t really know what to do, because his only option kept being taken from him.

He still didn’t understand why Stan had stopped him when he had punched Jimmy repeatedly with the unicorn-leather gloves.

“Why are you like this, Stanley?” Ford asked slowly.

“Like what?” Stanley asked.

“Why do you care so little about what happens to you?”

There was a pause.

“Well, that’s a loaded question,” Stan said.

“I … I know you said you’ve been raped before…. And you just said you don’t mind that someone tried to … do it again if it means we can benefit from it…. I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.”

“… Are you crying?”

Ford sniffed. He didn’t answer, but it was obvious he was. Fat, hot tears started to roll down his face.

Stan sighed.

“You wanna know why I don’t really care? You really wanna know?”

Ford nodded.

“It wasn’t the first time, but when it had first happened in prison, I had to rely on him to protect me from worse guys. It had hurt, but he was my ticket out of there and out of that country and back to the U.S. It’s just … easier not to care about that stuff, especially when I’ve already bartered it in exchange for safety and freedom and food and travel expenses…. It wasn’t all I bartered and traded, and he made Jimmy look like Prince Charming, but he could’ve been worse…. This just isn’t the worst thing ever to me, and … I’m kind of glad it seems to be the worse thing that’s ever occurred to you, because that means no one hurt you the same way.”

Stan gave him a smile, and Ford’s tears still ran down his cheeks. Hearing that hurt so much.

“You wanna hug?” Stan asked, but Ford shook his head.

Stan’s smile faltered, and Ford felt bad for making that happen, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been there for him, had been too busy with his own shit, busy with Bill, busy getting tricked and conned, all the while his brother….

“That wasn’t the first?” Ford asked.

“Nope.”

“When … when had the first time been?”

Stanley was very quiet for a time after he asked the question.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” Ford said firmly.

Another silence that felt like forever.

Memories Stanley had long buried resurfaced, and Stanley ended up lost in them for a moment or two.

He remembered being pushed into the ground and big hands, thicker than his own, forcing their way through his buttoned fly, remembered the way the sand had itched at the back of his neck, remembered that he had just been too weak to push him off.

“Was it after Jimmy?”

No response.

“Before?”

Ford picked up on a slight eye shift. The tension in Ford’s body grew, and he knew Stanley was just as much on edge.

Neither of them really wanted to have this conversation, but Ford knew he could no longer be in the dark about this. He … he needed to better understand his brother. Needed to know how to fix this. How to help Stanley get better. Help him learn how to love himself.

“How old were we? Eighteen?”

No response, no body movement tell.

“Seventeen? Sixteen?”

Nothing.

“Before Carla?”

The eye shift was there again.

That was bad. They had met Carla about right when they had started high school, so that meant that it had to have been before the age of fourteen.

“Stanley - !”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ford.”

Stan’s tone was firm, and Ford was a little startled by how much like their father Stan sounded in that moment.

It was the same tone their father used when he wanted no arguing, no objections, no talking.

Ford found himself shutting up, despite the tears still flowing down his face. Despite needing to know the answer.

But it already hurt to think about Stanley having gotten hurt in such a way when … when he should’ve been there to help him. He … he should have _known_ already.

“C’mere, you knucklehead,” Stan said, and he pulled Ford into a hug. Ford hugged Stan back, hugging him super tightly. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It happened a long time ago.”

“I’ll stop worrying if you stop putting yourself in harm’s way. No more prostitution, no more sleeping with dangerous people…. I want you to be happy, and if … having someone will make you happy, I do want you to pursue that. I just want it to be someone safe, someone who will take good care of you….”

“Funny thing about that is that those kind of people tend to want people who aren’t self-destructive,” Stan said.

“That’s not true,” Ford said, though he didn’t have any examples to back it up. He just felt in his gut that it wasn’t.

But Stan didn’t argue with him. He just snorted at Ford’s stubbornness.

They headed to bed after that, though when Stanley got to his bedroom alone, he started to lose himself in memories.

Crampelter pinning him down on the ground, making fun of him when he cried.

Crampelter had been the first, and it had been shocking and a terrifying kind of new. His opinion of himself had been the highest it had ever been, and he had still been so naive, despite living with the kind of people his parents were.

Stan had never done anything about it. He had never told anyone.

He had let it fester and rot in the back of his mind, where he had stuffed it into a box and chained it shut. And now he was forced to think about it.

Stan didn’t get much sleep that night.

Neither did Ford. It was hard to get to sleep when all you could think about was that while you had been worried about people making fun of your six fingers, your brother was keeping the fact that he had been sexually assaulted a secret. His paranoia was running away from him, and in the darkness, he begun to suspect everyone they had known, even if the thought made his stomach churn.


	21. Chapter 21

When the twins noticed that both Ford and Stan were too tired to do anything the next day, they and Janice spent the day with Spitfire and Fiddleford, allowing Stan and Ford to catch up on their sleep.

Since Ford had spent so much time trying to keep Fiddleford and Stan alone so they could talk and potentially get together and the twins and Janice had spent so much time trying to get Stan and Spitfire to be alone together too, none of them had really seen Spitfire and Fiddleford interact with each other.

And the two men actually got along really well. While Spitfire wasn’t a scientist by any means, he had a sharp mind and was actually able to carry decent conversations with Fiddleford about education-related topics, and then they had gotten talking about boats versus motorcycles and the pros and cons to both of them, which models they preferred for their respective preferred modes of transportation.

The kids mostly ran around town while Fiddleford and Spitfire watched.

“You never went to college?” Fiddleford asked.

“Nope. Don’t really need it to be a tanner,” Spitfire explained. “So after I quit being part of Jimmy’s gang, I started up a small business for making things out of leather, then one day, Janice’s mother came into the story, and things just went from there.”

“Awwww. I remember how I had met Fiona. It was while I was just starting out at college - before I met Stanford. Why, she was the prettiest woman in the debate club. She had really wanted to be a politician, and while things didn’t quite work out the way … either of us had planned, she never really stopped fighting the good fight for equal rights for women. Things had just … fallen apart a bit when I started … strugglin’ with my memory.”

Fiddleford had trailed off, and Spitfire noticed how he didn’t really like dwelling on that.

“I loved Margaret, and a part of me still does now, but I’d be lying if I said Margaret had been anything but a strict, serious business woman with very, very strong Christian morals. If you get what I mean,” Spitfire said. “She … she’s a very strong woman. I still am not entirely sure what she had seen in me to begin with. She had really wanted me to change in a lot of ways. But I’d never regret meeting her or our relationship.”

Spitfire smiled fondly as he watched Janice play with Mabel and Dipper.

“You love your daughter a lot,” Fiddleford observed.

Spitfire nodded.

“If it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me, but why did you and your wife get divorced?” Fiddleford asked.

Spitfire gave him a small smile.

“Well, I’m … actually not straight. And typically am not interested in women that way. She … understandably didn’t like that when she found out.”

“Oh my. I see.”

Fiddleford allowed there to be a silence after, and they just watched the kids play for a bit longer.

“Oh hey, Mabel! Dipper! And, uh - I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Janice.”

“Hi, Gideon….” Mabel said.

“Hey, Gideon,” Dipper said, expression particularly brighter than his sister’s.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Janice. I’m Gideon Gleeful. I met Mabel and Dipper last year during the summer.”

“They said….” Janice said, looking over to Mabel, expression uneasy.

Spitfire furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who’s the kid?”

“That’s Gideon. He, uh, well, I don’t quite remember the exact details, but he had gone to prison last year for fraud and unlawful surveilance of the entire town and its people. Lots of invasion of privacy. He kind of had some sorta rivalry with the twins, but they seemed to have patched things up by the time their birthday came around last year. Though, uh, judgin’ from Mabel’s face, there might be some other things going on between ‘em. I … think I remember Mabel and Gideon having dated last year before all that stuff with prison?”

Spitfire frowned, his thoughts going to his only experiences with prison.

_“Jimmy, why aren’t we bailing Stan out?”_

_“He got himself into that mess, he can get himself out.”_

_“But - but is he coming back? Is he gonna meet us in - ?”_

_“If you wanna be with Stan so much, you can march your butt right back to that podunk town and rot in it with him!”_

_“So, uh, think you can bail me out, kid?”_

_“I don’t have that kind of money, Jimmy.”_

_“Then steal it!”_

_“What? No! I - I can set up a shop and earn it that way. I won’t let you rot in here, Jimmy, you can count on me.”_

Spitfire was pulling out of his thoughts as he heard a motorcycle ride up.

“Ghost Eyes! There you are!”

“Look what I got a deal on!”

“That’s great! Well, I’ll be off, y’all. Me and the gang have been trying out some new activities since last summer. Expanding our horizons and all that,” Gideon said.

“Whoa! Is that a - ?” Dipper started, mouth falling open and getting closer to the bike.

Spitfire himself widened his eyes a bit.

There was no way that was what he thought it was. Absolutely no way. Barely anyone could afford a Confederate Wraith.

Spitfire got up and walked over, standing just behind Dipper as they both stared openly at it.

“This - this is a Confederate Wraith, isn’t it!?” Dipper asked, getting super excited. “Oh my gosh, this is - ! How did you even get this, they go for, like, $92,000!”

“There are only 250 of them in the entire world,” Spitfire added, in awe but also getting rather suspicious. 

Gideon looked around, almost as though he was checking for cops.

“It sure is. Hey, Gideon, ready for a ride?” Ghost Eyes said.

“C-Can I come?” Dipper asked, staring at the bike with excitement.

“Why sure, Dipper! My ride is parked over there, and we were all gonna meet up at the … the place with all the dirt where it’s easy to do basically whatever you want ‘cause no one’s ever there. Mabel, Janice, do you wanna - ?”

“No, we’re good,” Mabel said.

“Dipper, are you sure - ?” Spitfire asked, but he had already run after Gideon to reach Gideon’s motorbike - much smaller and better for someone Gideon’s size. There was enough room for Dipper to ride on the back of it, and he gripped onto Gideon before stopping and asking if that was okay and then being given the go-ahead.

Spitfire ended up just watching as Dipper ran off with Gideon and that … big man with no pupils.

“Should … should I go after them?” Spitfire asked, looking over at Fiddleford and the kids.

Before any of them could ask, the sounds of police sirens punched the air, and a police car sped past.

Preston Northwest was half-way running after them.

“And make sure that bike comes back in one piece! It was worth a lot of money!” Preston shouted after them.

He then panted a bit and put his hands on his knees.

That sealed it for Spitfire.

“Girls, stay with Fiddleford. I’m going after Dipper.”

“Okay,” Janice said, moving over to hold Mabel’s hand.

Spitfire got onto his own bike and followed the bike tracks in the dirt.

He couldn’t shake the bit of deja vu he had gotten when he had watched Dipper get onto Gideon’s bike. It was like watching Stan climb onto Jimmy’s bike and hug him from behind all over again.

The police sirens added to that, too.


	22. Chapter 22

Spitfire pulled up to where Dipper, Gideon, and Gideon’s prison buddies had camped out. The police car was no where to be found, though Spitfire wasn’t sure why.

As much as he didn’t approve of this Ghost Eyes doing something that would put the children in danger, he didn’t actually think about reporting Ghost Eyes’s location to the police. He just focused on Dipper and whether or not he was safe.

He parked the bike, then walked over.

Dipper was laughing, and there was a cooler full of beers and soda for the kids, and Dipper was in the middle of saying something as Spitfire walked up.

“So that’s what I ended up getting all stressed out about at the lake, but Mabel, Janice, and I haven’t given up, even though Grunkle Stan apparently went and got a date on Summerween all of a sudden, and I have no idea who that person is yet, but Spitfire’s, like, perfect for Grunkle Stan, so I’m fairly certain we have nothing to worry about. Besides, I was thinking it over, and it was just a date and Grunkle Stan hasn’t really mentioned anything else about him or her so it was probably nothing, like his date with Lazy Susan last year -”

“What about me and Stan?” Spitfire said.

Dipper jumped almost a foot into the air at the unexpected voice behind him, and he turned around to look at him.

“Spitfire! Hey! Uh, I was just, uh - !”

Spitfire chuckled a bit and shook his head.

“Revealing your matchmaking plan?”

Dipper laughed a little nervously, an equally nervous smile coming onto his face.

“And the matchmaking war they’ve gotten into with their Grunkle Ford,” Gideon added. “Have a seat! There’s plenty of food and drink to go around!”

There was snacks in a bag next to the cooler, and Spitfire took a seat next to Dipper.

“Where’re the others?” Dipper asked.

“With Fiddleford.”

“You’re here to babysit, then,” Dipper said, his voice taking on a bit of an unimpressed/annoyed tone.

Spitfire laughed a bit.

“Stan would kill me if I let you run off with strange men who had stolen a motorcycle.”

“Point taken, though arguably Grunkle Stan is also a strange man who has stolen many, many things in the past, so.”

That caused quite a bit of laughter from many of them, and Spitfire decided that while he wasn’t going to let Dipper be alone with these former criminals, they might not be so bad.

Not that Spitfire was really the best judge of character, if his past had anything to say about that, so he was still going to have his guard up. For Dipper’s sake, if nothing else.

“So - matchmaking war?” Spitfire asked, eyebrow raised.

Dipper turned red, but he answered the question.

“Well, Janice had said you like boys, and Grunkle Stan also likes boys, so we figured, hey, you two know each other, and … yeah, but Great-Uncle Ford thinks Fiddleford is the best match for Grunkle Stan and he’s been a bit of a jerk about it.”

“I can see that,” Spitfire said offhandedly.

“Huh? Why do you say that? Did he say something?”

Spitfire shrugged.

“It’s nothing.”

Dipper gave him a suspicious look, then dropped it.

“But you kids should probably leave well enough alone,” Spitfire added.

He expected the protest from Dipper, but apparently the rest of them had really gotten into Dipper’s tale, so Spitfire found himself surrounded by very similar groans of protest.

“Wait, do you not like Grunkle Stan that way?” Dipper asked.

“It’s -” Spitfire said, but a thought popped right into Gideon’s head at that moment, and Gideon ended up voicing it that moment.

“And wouldn’t them getting together make you and Janice dating kinda awkward?” Gideon asked.

“Wait, what?” Spitfire said, but Dipper quickly jumped in before awkward questions could happen.

“No, no, Janice and I aren’t dating, Mabel just said that for … I dunno why, really, but Mabel is still kinda weirded out by you with what happened last year, so I think that has something to do with it.”

“Oh.”

Gideon frowned, then stared down at his soda.

Dipper watched him for a bit, then put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, for what it’s worth, you really did prove yourself to be not that bad during Weirdmageddon, and you haven’t been creepy the whole time we’ve been back. You’ve actually been really cool this time around.”

“Thanks, Dipper,” Gideon said, smiling a bit. “I still have a lot to work on, but therapy’s been helping some.”

“That’s good!”

Dipper’s smile was adorable, but Spitfire was reminded of several things.

_“Hey, you did real good back there, Jimmy,” Stan’s voice came from the other side of the too-thin motel room wall. “You hadn’t lost control at all. I’m proud of you.”_

_There was an unhappy grunt, but not too long after, there was giggling and some other things fifteen-year-old Spitfire with a raging crush on Stan didn’t really want to hear._

And Dipper’s mention of matchmaking gave him that all familiar metaphorical stab in the chest, but it wasn’t the right time to mention it to Dipper. And if all three kids were trying to match-make him and Stan, he’d might as well wait until he could tell all of them.

The conversations eventually went to something else, Gideon at some point listing off all of the activities he and “the boys” had tried out. Apparently, since the end of Weirdmageddon, Gideon realized that he didn’t really do anything that wasn’t his fake psychic gig beforehand, so after prison, he had been trying to discovery himself, essentially.

“Fishin’ didn’t feel right, skateboardin’ was all right but it didn’t really have any of the oomph I was lookin’ fer, and I tried mini-golfin’ with Pacifica - it is really fun, I’m lookin’ forward to going to the mini-golf tournament next weekend with her - and I think I’ll keep this bikin’ thing goin’, but next I’m gonna try dancin’ just for fun instead of performance. 4th o’ July will be upon us sooner rather than later, and the Northwests have been real big on community involvement lately, so they’ve got this big thing planned.”

“Oh, that might be what the bike had been for,” Ghost Eyes said, looking over at the Confederate Wraith he had stolen from Preston just earlier that day.

“I dunno, it could’ve been him having a mid-life crisis. I mean, can they even afford that thing with how much money they lost last year?” Dipper said.

“I actually don’t think so,” Gideon said. “Not according to these texts I started getting from Pacifica complainin’ about her dad buying unnecessary stuff and how it’s affectin’ what she can get.”

Gideon held his phone up and showed Dipper the texts in question. Dipper snorted a bit.

“They’re still the richest family in Gravity Falls,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes a bit.

“True, true. But it can be hard to go to less than when you’re used to more. I mean, sure, my fake psychic deal was the reason we have money to throw around in the first place, but going from that to prison was still kinda hard, even though I could remember being poor.”

Dipper’s eyes widened a little bit, but he didn’t say anything. Spitfire couldn’t read the boy’s face well enough to tell what he was thinking.

But there was a lot of Stan in Dipper’s facial features and general ways he made expressions.

He had seen that look on Stan’s face before, and it had been as equally unreadable back then as it was now.

But the look had been given to Jimmy a lot, and it made Spitfire a little uneasy.

Spitfire loved Jimmy like a brother. But he knew Jimmy was a bad man. He owed Jimmy a lot, though Spitfire felt like he had mostly paid Jimmy back over the years.

Jimmy wasn’t completely horrible or evil, even if he was demon possessed these days.

There were good parts to Jimmy. It was just that the bad parts were dangerous. The bad parts scared Spitfire, and they had scared Stan, and the period of Spitfire’s life where he had to rely on Jimmy despite that fear was long gone.

Jimmy was mean, even when he was trying to be nice, and while Spitfire did see some good in Jimmy, Stan had somehow been able to see even more than anyone else, and that ability had something to do with that expression he saw on Dipper’s face right then.

But they were just children. Just thirteen years old. Spitfire may have been fourteen himself when he had met Jimmy, but there was a big difference between someone who was just barely a teenager and a grown man.

It could just be in Spitfire’s imagination. His brain making comparisons that he couldn’t help but make.

When Spitfire’s phone rang, he answered it, and he heard Stan on the other end.

“Hey, where are you and Dipper?”

“In a dirt clearing just within the city borders. He’s been visiting with a friend of his.”

“Can you two head back? Mabel’s a nervous wreck, and I can’t really make sense of what she’s saying. Something about Gideon Gleeful?”

“Yeah, that’s the friend he’s hanging out with.”

“Oh. Um. Well then. It’s gettin’ late, and has he eaten anything?”

“Soda, mostly.”

The boys (and men) had been taking turns using different trees for the bathroom, since the nearest proper restroom wasn’t for another three miles from the dirt clearing. Dipper had needed to go more than the rest of them because he had literally been drinking all of his calories and refusing all of the snack items.

“Well, that might keep ‘im full, but he’s gotta have his nutrient supplement meal replacement shake thing if he’s not gonna die of vitamin deficiency or something.”

“All right. We’ll be back soon. Might take a while to make the drive, though. About an hour?”

“All right. See you then.”

“See ya.”

Spitfire hung up, then stood up.

“All right, Dipper. We gotta head back.”

“Okay!” Dipper said, then he stood up. “Thanks for letting me hang out, Gideon.”

“Aw, don’t mention it. You’re welcome to visit whenever you’d like!”

Gideon and his prison buddies said their goodbyes and waved as they left, Dipper sitting on the back of Spitfire’s ride.

When they got back, Stan and Ford were very much awake and helping Fiddleford with dinner (and also arguing with each other about trivial things). Dipper met up with Mabel and Janice in the living room, and Mabel gave Dipper a near-tackle hug.

“Whoa! What’s gotten into you?” Dipper asked, hugging her back, but then letting go and putting some distance between them, hands on her shoulders.

“I just got worried. But now you’re back, safe and sound!”

Mabel was smiling, but Spitfire had seen what her face had looked like when Dipper had left.

“Yup! So what’ve you two been up to?” Dipper asked.

“Watching the Twilight Saga,” Mabel said.

Dipper smiled.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing I ran off to do something else,” Dipper said.

Mabel lightly punched him in the arm, and Dipper laughed.

“Kids, I need to talk to you three about something,” Spitfire said.

Janice paused the TV, then got off the couch and walked over to them.

“What is it, Daddy?”

Spitfire knelt down and put a hand on Janice’s shoulder, then put the other hand on Dipper’s shoulder, just because he was closer to him than Mabel was. Mabel stood neatly between Janice and Dipper.

“Now, I know you three have been trying to set me and Stan up. Which explains why the first time I’ve been alone with Fiddleford McGucket was today.”

Janice looked a little guilty, eyes pointed at her shoes now.

“I’m not angry or anything like that, so don’t worry about that. I just wanted to let you three know that it’s just not going to happen. As much as I like Stan, it was established a long time ago that Stan sees me as … family. Like a little brother. And it takes two to tango. So it’s … best if you three just focus on having a good summer and not worry so much about the love lives of two old men.”

“You’re not that old,” Mabel said.

Spitfire smiled a bit.

“Wait, what about you? Do you see Stan as family?” Dipper asked.

Spitfire’s smile faltered just a little bit.

But he didn’t have to answer.

“All right, kids! Dinner’s ready!” Stan called out.

Spitfire stood up, then gently pushed the kids towards the kitchen.

“We’re coming!” Spitfire called back. Though Spitfire hung back in the living room for a moment or two.

He remembered being fourteen years old and watching Stanley Pines with starstruck eyes. He remembered his heart hurting when he’d watch Jimmy kiss him, and he remembered his heart breaking when he first saw Jimmy punch Stan. He remembered being so confused when Stan would make excuses, even when he looked so sad, and when Stan would go right back to him.

He remembered confessing to Stan and Stan letting him down easy.

_“You’re like my little brother. Our little brother. You’re part of the family. I know that … probably feels like a shitty thing to hear, and I’m sorry for that, but you’re really young. You’ll find someone else sooner or later.”_

But Stan Pines continued to be the one Spitfire pined after. And he’d never tell the man, but when Margaret had cornered him in a conversation about … things, Stan had come up and … and then Spitfire had gone years without his daughter.

It was Spitfire’s own fault for carrying a photo of Stanley with him at all times. It had been Jimmy’s at first, but one Christmas when Jimmy had been very, very drunk, he had handed it to him “as a present.” It was … suggestive, and sometimes Spitfire felt bad for keeping it.

Margaret finding it probably had just been karma.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translation provided by http://trashofdoom.tumblr.com/.

Fiddleford hadn’t expected to have any company when he started his walk towards the lake.

“Hey, where’re you off to?” Stan asked. Candy and Grenda had come over with board games, and the children were having fun in the other room. Ford and Spitfire were actually arguing in the other, other room. Somehow Spitfire’s opinion on global warming and how motorcycles and cars do and don’t contribute to it had pissed Ford off, and Stan didn’t know enough about any of that to know if Ford was just being an ass or not. Spitfire was claiming that Ford’s science babble was all made-up, though Stan thought it could be science babble that was inaccurate for their dimension, but accurate for another one.

Who knew, really.

“Oh! I was just gonna go down by the lake and say hello to Tate. It has been a while since I’ve seen him, so I figured it was mighty time to do so.”

“Ah, okay. Sounds fun. Hey, do you know if he has those new fishing poles in yet?”

“Ah, I’m not sure. Would you like to come with to find out?” Fiddleford asked.

“Sure,” Stan said.

Stan refused to make the walk, so they took Stan’s car instead.

Driving meant that the time to get there was much shorter, which would mean more time to actually visit with Tate, so Fiddleford certainly wasn’t complainin’ none. But it was Fiddleford’s first time being in the front seat of Stan’s vehicle. All the other times he had been in the car, this was Ford’s seat.

“You mind if I put the radio on?” Stan asked.

“Oh no, I don’t mind none! Besides, it’s yer car.”

“Yeah, but just ‘cause it’s my car doesn’t mean you gotta suffer through my old man tastes.”

Fiddleford laughed.

“Stanley, we’re both old.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Stan then punched the on button, and mullet rock started to float through the air from the speakers.

Fiddleford’s own taste in music had always been on the more country side - banjos all the way, baby! - but he could see the appeal to quite a few of the songs that played on the radio.

They didn’t talk much as they drove, but Fiddleford enjoyed the silence with the background noise provided by the radio.

Stanley was singing underneath his breath for some of the songs, and Fiddleford felt a smile coming onto his face as he listened to him.

In the thirty years they had spent vaguely knowing who the other was - Fiddleford occasionally being very confused as to who Stanley actually was, sometimes thinking he was Stanford - they hadn’t really paid much attention to the other.

Fiddleford had always vaguely noted as a footnote that Stan Pines was an attractive man, especially earlier in their lives. But it was sort of like how he had noted that Stanford had been an attractive man in college. Just something you observed about someone, but didn’t have any other opinions about. It was a fact, fairly objective, give or take a few personal preferences.

But here, in Stanley’s car, listening to him sing without seeming to realize that he was doing it, to songs that he had no doubt listened to in his younger days, Stanley struck Fiddleford as … cute.

Fiddleford had been in the Shack for Weirdmageddon. He remembered Weirdmageddon. He … remembered Jimmy Snakes, though he had stayed uninvolved.

Stan Pines may have never been Gravity Falls’s favorite person (unless you asked Soos), but Fiddleford couldn’t ever imagine wanting to hit or hurt this adorable man.

They arrived at the lake, and Stan followed Fiddleford into the little shop to see Tate.

Stan asked Tate his question about the fishing lures and rods, then went over to the other end of the store to look at them while Tate and Fiddleford talked.

It took a while for Fiddleford to notice, since he was so focused on Tate, but eventually he realized that Stan had left the shop. Whether or not he had stolen something or just not gotten anything was left in the air, but it didn’t look like anything was missing. (Though Fiddleford offered to pay for whatever was missing, just in case. Tate refused, said he’d make Stan pay for it when he saw him next.)

The two of them went out of the shop to look around and see where Stan might be.

Fiddleford was a little surprised (and alarmed) to see Stan slapping a tentacle away, said tentacle being connected to the jellyfish merman from weeks ago.

“¡No! ¡No a la luz del día, y especialmente no frente a las personas!”

“ Pero creí que te gustaba sucio,” Marcos said with a smirk.

“ Ah, cállate.” 

Stan was blushing, but Fiddleford didn’t know a lick of Spanish, so hell if he knew what he was saying.

“Is everything all right?” Fiddleford asked.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah! Just, ah,” Stan started, then he had to slap away another tentacle. “¡Te lo voy a arrancar a mordiscos y me lo voy a tragar si vuelves a tocarme!”

Marcos just laughed.

“Just thought I could have a normal conversation with him, but apparently I can’t. But he agrees to let Ford ask him a bunch of nerd questions and run some tests. In exchange for some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff. Y’know. _Stuff_.”

Fiddleford just tilted his head, looking at him confused. Stan sighed and just shrugged it off.

“Adios, Marcos.”

“Hasta la vista, paletita.”

Stan it turned out hadn’t stolen a thing, then went back into the shop to actually properly purchase a fishing rod. (“What? I’m not gonna steal from the son of the guy who lets my brother use his money to buy all our shit, that’s rude.”) Then he and Fiddleford got back into the car and drove back to the mansion.

Fiddleford kept wondering what the “stuff” was, and he wondered if he should be worried about it.

Stanley continued to sing on the way back, and Fiddleford ended up getting one of the songs stuck in his head.

Despite it not being his favorite kind of music, he found that he didn’t mind at all.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, Marcos belongs to cirilee on tumblr: cirilee.tumblr.com. Spanish translations provided by FierceHurricane here on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/users/FierceHurricane/pseuds/FierceHurricane. There is sexual content in this chapter, though nothing is described in a way that is not consistent with the previous sexual content. It is very un-detailed.

Ford still wasn’t entirely sure if this was something he wanted to do. But the idea of learning more about mermaids was very appealing.

Science and research had always been big weaknesses of his, and he supposed he hadn’t really changed all that much at all.

Getting Marcos out of the lake was the hard part, Ford felt. They rented a truck and had a giant water tank sitting in the bed of the truck.

As a grown adult, Marcos had a bit more control over himself after he left the water than Mermando had when Mabel had transported him from the pool to the lake, but motor functions were more sluggish outside of the water. And lifting Marcos off the shore and up onto the truck and into the tank took a lot of work.

Ford would have to weigh Marcos to see exactly how much he weighed, but just from picking him up and lifting him into the tank, Ford would have to guess that, as a sea creature, he was able to put on a lot more weight and not have as many problems than he or Stan could. He had to weigh more than either of them (and Ford was about 180 lbs while Stanley, Ford guessed, was more like 200 or more).

That said, many of Marcos’s tentacles actually were not very strong. And parts of his body that Ford had assumed were tentacles were actually Marcos’s hood (or bell, depending on your preference of terminology). It was almost like Marcos was one of those dolls that had dresses designed to make it look like their torsos were coming out of flowers. Most of Marcos’s muscle seemed to be in his upper torso, and Marcos did indeed try to lift himself up onto the truck himself at first with his arms, but Ford and Stan could actually see how quick the sun was to cause damage to the jellyfish parts of his body. So they had quickly intervened to make his transfer go faster.

In hindsight now, it made sense that Marcos had targeted Stanley when the sun had gone down on the boat all those months ago. If the sun was going to hurt him…. He was fine once he was in the water, though. Ford took note of it in his journal as they drove back to the mansion.

Explaining why they were carrying a water tank with Stan’s attempted-rapist in it was a lot harder than Ford expected. For Ford it was, at least. He couldn’t get the words out, and he flushed horribly and felt rather guilty, even though it had been Stan’s idea.

Stan had no problems explaining it to Spitfire and Fiddleford, but explaining it to the kids was hard even for him.

“M-Maybe this means he’s not so bad, Dipper,” Mabel said. “B-besides, he is related to Mermando, and Mermando’s a sweetheart. He can’t be all bad if they’re related, right?”

Dipper didn’t look convinced, but really the only person who could stop them was Fiddleford, and Fiddleford, after a little hemming and hawing, agreed to let them keep Marcos in the basement, where all the other research and robot building happened.

“Is there an elevator? I am not carrying him down a flight of stairs,” Stan said.

Marcos nodded in agreement.

“Tus débiles brazos humanos hacen que sea un viaje inestable de por sí,” Marcos said, looking a little sick.

Fiddleford and Ford built an elevator and installed it within a few days, both men choosing not to sleep much until it was finished.

In the meantime, Marcos hung out in the entry hallway, and he seemed to be having fun scaring the crap out of whoever walked into the hallway and forgot that he was there. The only one who wasn’t ever alarmed when Marcos did something to startle him was Stan. Stan seemed to already predict what Marcos was going to do before he did it.

And he made good on his threat to bite Marcos’s tentacle if he touched him at an inopportune time again.

Stan was the one mostly helping Marcos keep his tank clean and feeding him while Ford and Fiddleford worked on the elevator. It became very clear very fast that Marcos was really not used to being in such a small body of water and definitely hadn’t ever had such a hard time avoiding his own waste production.

Stan went ahead and started keeping track of what Marcos did and did not eat (and what he could eat but just plain refused to).

Once Ford had the elevator working and tested it a few times, he and Stanley transported Marcos down to the basement.

That’s when the research really began.

“So, Stanley, you be the translator for his answers, and I’ll ask basic questions about mermaid culture and investigate how much his culture differs from the mermaid I had managed to interview a long time ago -”

“Wait, that mummified thing in the tank that’s in the Shack?”

“Yes… ?”

“The hell happened to it!?”

“I’m curious to see if his origins being Mexican has any change or influence over his mermaid culture or if mermaid culuture is more cohesive than human culture is or if it is equally as diverse.”

“Answer the question, Ford.”

“So let’s start with dietary habits.”

So it turned out that Marcos was ultimately a carnivore, but that while he was Mermando’s cousin, he was actually a hybrid. Mermando and relatives more closely related to Mermando were omnivores, but Marcos’s parents were Mermando’s cousin twice removed and a jellyfish woman.

She had eaten his father when she was done with him.

While Marcos was a danger to most humans and animals, he refrained from eating anyone of either side of his genetics, and jellyfish people as a whole refrained from eating their own breed. Jellyfish people and mermaids were distantly related enough for the consumption of them to not be considered cannibalism, but closely related enough to be capable of breeding.

Ford attempted to make a point that it would be like a human eating a chimpanzee and how while it may not technically be cannibalism, it would certainly be highly disturbing for others of their species, and that it would still be rather alarming to watch a lion eat a tiger, but Marcos didn’t seem to care about Ford’s ethical concerns.

Ford made a note in his notes to investigate whether or not Marcos was infertile. He asked Marcos, but Marcos just shrugged. Ford wasn’t sure how he was going to investigate that, but he’d think of something.

As Stan had told him earlier, Marcos was capable of controlling the poison in his tentacles.

He apparently could determine whether or not the tentacles released poison or sperm, and Ford paused for a moment and turned his head to Stan.

“Pardon?”

“He says he can decide whether or not he wants to spurt out poison or sperm, depending on his intentions with the thing he has wrapped up in his tentacles. So him killing things is kinda like death by penis.”

Ford blushed heavily, and Marcos laughed at how easily flustered Ford was.

It was a bit different from how regular jellyfish reproduced and functioned, but seeing that Marcos was not only a hybrid among mermaids, he was also a hybrid of human and sea creature in appearance. It would make sense that his biological functions were different from the actual jellyfish creature. And this more octopus-like nature made it easier for him to interact sexually with plenty of other creatures who were not jellyfish, Marcos claimed.

Ford attempted to just avoid hearing about that, but then Stan had to be a smartass and ask questions specifically about Marcos’s sexual conquests, and Marcos provided the information. Stan stole the journal Ford was using for this (a shiny new one with an outline of a mermaid on it and a number 1 drawn on the mermaid) and wrote down what Marcos said in English. Though Stanley would end up writing some of the sentences in Spanish, and then he would have to write the English translation right next to it.

Marcos did share that he was rather unique in his … no-discrimination policy when it came to sex.

He also shared that he more often than not ate what he had sex with afterwards.

It was especially unique that the sexual partner survived the encounter, and he was discovering that it made the sexual partner more appealing and interesting, and Ford, in a very loud voice, forced a topic change immediately, his face as red as a tomato.

Stan rolled with the flirtations, either flirting back or brushing them off like a waitress with her eye on the paycheck. Ford had no idea what he was saying when he’d slip back into Spanish to talk to Marcos, though he did get some notes out of the conversations and could make guesses about what they were about.

In general, the entire situation was becoming a worse and worse idea to Ford.

But, he reasoned with himself, this was good for his research. He hadn’t realized there were different breeds of mermaids, and this was important to know. And it was important to know how those breeds differed from each other, and it was important to know how Marcos interacted with other creatures and fed himself.

All of this was very important, and yes, Ford was uncomfortable, but he could work through it for his work.

At least, that’s how he felt about it at first.

Then he had attempted to deal with his insomnia by going down into the basement and studying Marcos’s sleeping habits.

Marcos … wasn’t asleep. And neither was Stan.

What happened was a lot of flailing and screaming on Ford’s end, then quickly covering his eyes and shrinking away from the display of inappropriate behavior for a rated T for Teen story.

“The hell are you doing down here, Ford?” Stan asked, his mouth … sounding somehow obstructed, and Ford really, really wished it didn’t.

He hadn’t gotten too good a look, but he was never, ever going to be able to look at any of those tentacles the same ever again.

Just thinking about the little he had seen was enough to make Ford want to bleach his eyeballs.

He heard the sound of Stan spitting something out, then “Deja eso fuera de mi boca diez segundos ¿quieres? ” and “Ford, are you okay?”

“NO, no I’m not!”

Ford, while backing up and away from it, ended up tripping over something of Fiddleford’s on the floor, and he fell with a resounding CRASH.

Ford refused to lower his journal from his face, not wanting to see anything that he hadn’t already.

He heard some back and forth of Spanish between Stan and Marcos, then the sound of the water in the tank sloshing around, then what sounded like wet footprints on the concrete floor.

He felt Stan’s hands pull him up, and Ford lowered the journal just enough so that he could see Stanley from the shoulders up.

He pointedly ignored the white gunk that was clinging to the side of his mouth. Ford’s stomach was churning, and he wondered if this was how Dipper’s stomach felt when he was having trouble with keeping food down.

“What’re you doing down here?”

“I couldn’t sleep and was going to make notes about his sleeping habits! What’re you doing down here!?”

“Pretty sure that was obvi-”

“New rule! You don’t get to be down here by yourself!”

“Ford, the perks were the whole reason he agreed to this in the first place. Also, that tank is way too small, he really needs a bigger one.”

Ford wanted to make a snide comment about how Stan just wanted a bigger one so sex could be more comfortable, but Ford forced himself to take a deep breath.

“I’ll get him a bigger tank if you promise not to come down here without me knowing about it. No interacting with him in ways we don’t agree on, especially if that behavior could mess with the tests and research.”

Stan turned his head to look back at Marcos, and Marcos said something in Spanish, then Stan looked back at Ford and nodded.

“Okay, deal.”

After Stanley left the basement, Ford then got to work on fixing the basement door with a lock that only he and Fiddleford would have the key to. He’d have a spare sitting underneath the potted plant further down the hall just in case. By the time Stanley awoke the next day, it was impossible for Stanley to get down there without Ford and the key, even if he used the elevator.

The elevator now could talk to them and you needed a special password in order to get downstairs. A password that Ford refused to tell Stanley (but told Fiddleford and begged him not to tell Stanley; “It’s for his own good, Fiddleford! Please please please?”).

Fiddleford had wanted to refuse Stanford, but the begging look he pegged him with and the true but somewhat exaggerated story about Stanley and Marcos made him relent.

“Did you have to bring such a dangerous critter into the mansion?” Fiddleford had asked as Ford put the finishing touches on the updated elevator system.

“It was Stanley’s idea, but while he is dangerous and I don’t want the children or Stanley near him without supervision, he has shared information that has made him vital for my research into the paranormal,” Ford had said.

And so this was the routine for the next few weeks leading up to the 4th of July: Ford would go down into the basement by himself, refuse Stanley access to the depths below, and he even showed off an invention that helped him get Marcos’s words translated into English for him.

“Fiddleford, say something in hambone,” Ford said, and Fiddleford did so. The machine then provided them with the English translation.

“Whoa,” Dipper, Mabel, and Janice all said together.

Ford had his chest puffed out in pride.

Stan, however, was looking at Ford with a rather unhappy look.

“This is all just because you don’t like that Marcos’s interest is not purely scientific.”

Ford refused to dignify that with a comment.

Down in the basement, Marcos didn’t really have a way to measure time outside of when Ford would come down into the basement and when he would go back up. Ford would then offer what day and time it was (sometimes) and proceed with his tests.

Without Stanley or anyone else in the basement, Marcos found the experience to be very, very unpleasant.

Stanford Pines was interested in things that he could just ask Marcos about, but when Marcos would fail to give him specifics or felt like Marcos’s estimations were either lies or unhelpful assumptions/estimations/guesses, Ford took the matter into his own hands. Some of these questions were about things like how long a mermaid or jellyfish person could go without eating.

“Como cuando tengo hambre, y nosotros estamos alto en la cadena alimenticia. Realmente no experimentamos la falta de alimento.”

Ford had the machine translate.

“So you don’t know?”

“Sí. No sé.”

“Well then. I know what our next test is.”

“¿Que?”

And Ford stopped feeding Marcos after that.

Marcos had a bigger tank now, but Ford was refusing to give him any food.

He did everything else involved in captive mermaid care, but feed Marcos.

Marcos found himself growing weaker and hungrier. Marcos would relay Ford the information he wanted, cursing the fact that Ford was now keeping his distance from him, just out of tentacle reach.

Marcos could only wait until what he was able (or not able) to tell Ford would guilt the man into giving in and giving him food. He wasn’t useful to the man dead. He couldn’t be a research specimen while dead.

Could he?

Was that the human’s plan?

Was this revenge?

Was this something he should have expected from a human?

Marcos had no idea what day it was. But when the 4th of July came around, he could hear footsteps down the stairs. Footsteps that were lighter than Ford’s or Stan’s.

He only barely recognized one of the voices as belonging to one of the children Ford and Stan were looking after.

The other one, though, was completely unknown to him.

And that meant he was free game.


	25. Chapter 25

As a group, they hadn’t planned anything for the 4th of July beyond attending the 4th of July event that the Northwests had organized as a public event with the local police force (a.k.a. they were working closely with Blubs and Durland). Ford had ended up spending a lot of time in the basement, which allowed the kids to attempt to get Spitfire and Stan to spend more time together, but the only one who was still attempting to matchmake Stan and Spitfire was Mabel.

“Grunkle Stan just doesn’t know that Spitfire is perfect for him yet,” Mabel had said when Dipper and Janice both had questioned her. After that, they just kind of rolled with it.

Dipper believed their ship had sunk, however, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

He liked Fiddleford McGucket just fine, but if Stan wasn’t going to fall for Spitfire, then he probably definitely wasn’t going to fall for McGucket. McGucket was so much more….

Well, he married a raccoon and despite having built Shame Bots and Death Rays in the past, he wasn’t a Tough Guy™. Stan definitely liked Tough Guys™. Like Jimmy. And Marcos. (Thanks to Mabel and her distress over the comment, Dipper now knew what “not strictly interested in science” meant.) And Spitfire was definitely a tough guy, but if Grunkle Stan only saw Spitfire as family, then their past history as friends worked as a detriment.

But there wasn’t anyone else in town who was a good pick. Tyler Cutebiker used to be a biker and was now the mayor, but he wasn’t a Tough Guy™ and was sort of dating Manly Dan. Manly Dan was not available for the same reason Tyler Cutebiker wasn’t; he was plenty tough, but not single.

Dipper had even briefly considered Soos before deciding that was the dumbest idea he had ever had. Not only was Soos dating Melody, but Stan would probably hit him (Dipper) upside the head with a newspaper for even suggesting it.

Everyone he thought of was either already dating someone else or wasn’t someone he knew well enough to feel comfortable with setting them up with Grunkle Stan. And Dipper knew now that Grunkle Stan was getting it on with Marcos in the basement, and that made his stomach upset on multiple different occasions.

So as far as Dipper was concerned, the matchmaking game was over. At least as far as Stan was concerned. He still needed to figure out if Janice actually had a shot with Mabel….

But a few days before the 4th of July, the phone rang at the mansion. Dipper happened to be conveniently close to the phone, so he answered.

“Hello? McGucket Mansion.”

“Hey, Dipper.”

“Oh, hey, Gideon. What’s up?”

“Oh, not much. I was wonderin’ what you all were doin’ fer the 4th of July.”

“We were gonna attend the Northwests’ thing. See Pacifica, that kind of thing.”

“Oh cool! So was I. Would you and Mabel and yer friend like to hang out with Pacifica _and_ me?”

“I know I would! That sounds fun. Lemme ask Mabel and Janice what they think.” Dipper then covered the receiver with his hand and looked over at Mabel and Janice. “Hey, would you wanna hang out with Gideon while we hang out with Pacifica on the 4th?”

Mabel made a face, and Janice ducked her head a bit.

“N-not really….” Mabel said.

“Okay.” Dipper put the phone back to his ear and lowered his hand. “If you do hang out with us, Mabel and Janice will be finding something else to do. Or I could meet up with you while they hang with Pacifica. Soos and Wendy are also supposed to be there. And probably Wendy’s friends.”

“I understand. I know I … I know I’m not your sister’s favorite person, and I understand why and respect that. I am, however, eternally grateful that you’ve been able to look past that, and I thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. You just really do seem different is all.”

“Still, I … I really enjoy spending time with you.”

“Same here. So we’ll meet at the big gathering?”

“Yeah! I’ll be chillin’ with Ghost Eyes and the gang, so I’ll be easy to spot.”

“All righty then! See you there.”

“Bye, Dipper.”

“Bye.”

Dipper then hung up, unable to read into the tone Gideon had had when he had said goodbye. Since no one else had been on the line, no one else could either.

Literally the day before the 4th of July, Dipper had watched Ford tuck the spare key to the basement underneath a potted plant in the hallway that lead to the basement door.

He simply observed the moment, then went about his business, not thinking that he’d be using the information any time soon.

Ford would occasionally talk about how his research was going at the dinner table, and Stan kept asking when he’d be allowed back into the basement, and Ford kept avoiding answering the question.

At the time, both Mabel and Dipper had been rather supportive of keeping Stan away from Marcos, though Mabel was still hoping that Marcos perhaps wasn’t as bad as their first impression of him led them to believe. While attempted rape was certainly a serious matter to consider, if Grunkle Stan wasn’t thinking this was a big deal, maybe Grunkle Ford had misunderstood the situation and that it hadn’t been attempted rape. And maybe they just hadn’t realized that they needed to clear that fact up to the kids, maybe the topic just made them feel uncomfortable and they just didn’t want to talk about it, even though everything was fine. That could totally be what the situation was, right?

That said, Mabel and Dipper didn’t get the impression that Marcos was a Good Guy™, and Dipper reserved the right to be suspicious and supportive of protecting Grunkle Stan.

Sometimes, Dipper ended up not going to sleep after being jolted awake from a nightmare full of fire and brimstone and the way Jimmy’s eyes changed, and his head would throb with the memory of Jimmy hitting him during Weirdmageddon, before they had gotten back home. They didn’t need a sea creature version of Jimmy Snakes.

On the day of the 4th of July, Ford came up from the basement earlier than usual, and Stan had on one of his Hawaiian shirts. There had been a bit of laughing as Fiddleford and Stan realized that, for once, their outfits matched. Stan’s shirt was blue and white while Fiddleford’s was pink and yellow, and both wore shorts that went with their respective shirts. Ford wore his usual sweater, and Spitfire and Dipper were in their biking attire.

Mabel had knitted herself her best 4th-of-July sweater yet, and she had made Janice a matching one.

“All right, let’s see what the Northwests have planned. If it’s not a total wash, we’ll stick around for a few hours, but I’m taking Dipper back to the house before the fireworks start.”

“Okay!” the kids agreed; Dipper was able to handle the fireworks that he, Stan, and Mabel had set off at the Shack last year by themselves, but fireworks during the day while you had earplugs in your ears and hadn’t done anything else before said fireworks yet was a lot different from having loud fireworks be the last thing you do that day and sound sensitivity getting worse as time goes on.

In short, everyone knew Dipper wouldn’t have the energy or mental ability to handle the loud noise so late in the day, and it was just going to be a reality they had to deal with. Dipper didn’t mind so much; Pacifica had said there were going to be DVDs available for purchase of the fireworks show afterwards, so if he wanted to see it, he could just ask her for a copy.

Once they arrived, the kids were allowed to run off, though Spitfire kept close to Janice.

“Pacifica!” Mabel shouted as she practically flung herself at their friend.

“Hey, watch it! This hair-do took hours!”

“Hey, Pacifica.”

“Hey, Dipper, Janice. I really like your hair clip.”

“Thanks,” Janice said, smiling.

“Whoa, you guys went all out. Are those carnival games?”

“Dad said there was nothing more American than fair food, carnival games, apple pie, and displays of the USA’s spirit of innovation. He’s still upset over losing that fancy motorbike, but honestly? Good riddance, he hadn’t run that purchase passed any of us, and I’ve been buying dime store make up for weeks since he bought it. It’s terrible, I can feel the oiliness giving me acne.”

“Speaking of motorbikes, there’s Gideon and Ghost Eyes,” Dipper said, and sure enough, Ghost Eyes had rode up with Gideon on the Confederate Wraith. “Oh my gosh, I’d pay to be able to ride that thing.”

“Are you sure you want to hang out with him?” Mabel asked, frowning. “’Cause if it’s just the bike you wanna look at, I’m sure Pacifica’s dad can get Blubs and Durland to make them give it back.”

“But I do wanna hang out with Gideon,” Dipper said, frowning a bit. “Do - do you not want me to?”

He’d understand if she didn’t, and he didn’t want to upset her…. At the same time, he was really starting to like Gideon….

“I -”

Mabel and Janice shared a look. Pacifica crossed her arms.

“I mean, I’ve been hanging with Gideon all year. He seems to have improved since you guys were last year, from what Mabel’s said he used to be like,” Pacifica said. “Granted, he also doesn’t have a crush on me, so … .”

She then shrugged, as though to say she wasn’t sure how much weight her opinion should have in the situation.

“I want Gideon to be a better person,” Mabel said. “I don’t want him to be bad, and I want you to have friends and be happy. But he did try to kill us and did kidnap us that one time and stole the Shack….”

“I know….”

The unspoken “but” hung in the air, and Dipper and Mabel stood there, not knowing what to do.

“Maybe you should have the cell phone,” Mabel said, taking it out of her pocket and giving it to him. “That way you can call the Grunkles if you get into trouble.”

“Okay,” Dipper agreed, taking the phone from her and putting it into his jacket pocket. “I’ll see you guys in a few hours.”

“Deal.”

Dipper then ran off to hang with Gideon. Mabel, however, couldn’t stop frowning, and she refused to look away until they had disappeared into the crowds forming around them.

“So,” Pacifica said, wanting to help but not sure as to what to say. So she did the next best thing: provide a distraction. “What made you two decide to match? Did you become a couple and this is your way of telling everybody about it?”

“What? No!” Janice said, blushing and startled.

Mabel took a double-take of what Pacifica said, then started giggling.

“Wha? Nah, Janice and I aren’t dating, we’re just friends.”

“Aw, too bad. You two are cute together,” Pacifica said, winking at them.

“You think?”

Mabel pulled Janice into a one-armed hug, and Janice blushed more, lowering her head.

She suddenly wished Dipper was still here.

Dipper ended up having a lot of fun with Gideon. It was a lot like how things had been with Wendy at the fair last year - playing carnival games and getting snacks and talking and laughing, and Dipper was having a lot of fun.

But he had lost track of time.

“Dipper, I actually have a surprise for you,” Gideon said, his smile making his cheeks rounder than usual. “It’s in the middle of the fireworks show, I think you’ll really like it.”

“The fire-? Actually, I’m gonna be -”

And Dipper didn’t have time to finish his sentence.

The first firework exploded in the air, very unexpectedly for Dipper, and Dipper froze.

His knees didn’t want to bend, his feet felt like rock that he couldn’t lift, and his brain ended up teleporting him back to the cave with Darlene the Spiderwoman, with the echoing blast of Ford’s gun, of spider blood and brains decorating the cave floor.

“Dipper?”

He couldn’t move. The second firework went up into the air, and it was followed much more quickly by the third and fourth.

“Dipper, what’s wrong?”

He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t go past his lips, his mouth refused to open, and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t, he - !

The phone was vibrating in his jacket pocket, but he couldn’t make his arms move.

“G-Ghost Eyes, something’s wrong with Dipper! What do I do?!”

Dipper felt himself picked up off the ground and carried, and he vaguely recognized that it was Ghost Eyes carrying him, and the fireworks were getting progressively less loud as he was carried further away.

The Confederate Wraith was sitting in the back of Ghost Eyes’s truck, and Ghost Eyes opened the side door for Gideon, then moved around to the other side of the truck so Dipper could sit between them in the car.

“Does that help some?” Ghost Eyes asked.

Dipper nodded, though not overtly. He still felt like he was somewhere else, and his body was refusing to move.

“It’s the noise, isn’t it?” Ghost Eyes asked.

Dipper nodded again.

“Do you want us to take you home?”

Another nod.

He wanted to tell them about the phone in his pocket, but he couldn’t make the words come out and he still couldn’t move his own arms.

Ghost Eyes started the truck, and they drove away. Dipper vaguely felt Gideon’s hand in his own.

Back at the celebration, Mabel, Janice, and Pacifica had been having a lot of fun until the time for the fireworks got progressively closer and everyone but Dipper had met back up at the car.

“He’s not picking up!” Mabel said, starting to panic.

The first firework went off, and Mabel herself jumped.

While she didn’t know it, she was going through the same train of thought as Dipper right then: gun shots in the cave, echoing against the cave walls, spider blood and guts all over the cave floor.

They all ended up splitting up to search for Gideon and Dipper, Stan running into Soos as he searched and enlisting him and Melody for help. Ford ended up running into Wendy and her family and did the same with them.

Mabel ended up coming to a complete stop in her running around when she looked up and saw that some of the fireworks made words.

DIPPER. Inside of a blue heart.

Mabel remembered how Gideon’s dates had gone. Dread mixed with her panic, and she desperately needed to find Dipper.

Especially when she heard Pacifica say, “What the heck? Who ordered that to happen?”

By the time that Dipper, Gideon, and Ghost Eyes arrived at McGucket’s mansion, Dipper had regained the ability to actually use his body parts. He squeezed Gideon’s hand tightly when that had happened, and he was able to slide himself out of the truck.

He knew where McGucket kept the spare key, then let them in.

“Are you feeling better?” Gideon asked.

Dipper tried to speak, but ultimately just shook his head no.

Gideon could tell Dipper was trying to use words and failing by the sounds that were coming from him. It sounded like muffled consonants. 

“Is there anything we can do?”

Dipper pressed his hand to his head. He nodded.

“What is it?”

Dipper squeezed Gideon’s hand again, trying to communicate as best he could.

“Do you want us to stay until your family gets here?” Ghost Eyes asked.

Dipper nodded rapidly.

“We can do that,” Gideon said, his voice soft and comforting.

Dipper led them into the kitchen, then went about getting himself something - anything - that could help him hurt less. The pain killers were in an easily accessible drawer, and Dipper set those on the counter before rooting around in the fridge.

Dipper poured a giant glass of milk, then got the painkiller bottle open and shook out a couple pills. He popped them into his mouth, then used the milk to try to get it down.

This didn’t always work. His eating disability often meant that he just gagged on medication given orally and would vomit. But he had to try.

This time, he managed to get it down fairly well with only a little bit of gagging, and the taste of the whole milk did make him feel better.

After that, he took the phone out of his pocket and tried to text Stan and Ford that he was okay and at the house. But his brain refused to put words together with his fingers, so despite the phone blowing up, he couldn’t do anything about it.

Gideon took it from him after Dipper set it on the counter in a defeated manner, then pretended to be Dipper while he punched the text in.

“This what you wanted to say?” Gideon asked.

Dipper nodded, then Gideon punched “send.”

For a while, they just hung around in the living room, Ghost Eyes flipping through the TV channels. Eventually, Dipper’s voice came back, and Gideon and Dipper ended up having their own conversation while Ghost Eyes ended up falling asleep while watching the TV.

“So there’s really a merman in the basement?” Gideon asked.

“Yeah. We’re not supposed to go down there without permission, but …do you wanna take a look at him?”

Looking shouldn’t hurt anything. Ford just didn’t want Grunkle Stan to have sex with him.

So Dipper got the key and unlocked the door to the basement.

They went down the steps.

And there he was. Laying on the floor of his water tank.

Dipper furrowed his eyebrows.

“That’s … weird.”

“Is he … okay?” Gideon asked.

The two boys got closer to the tank.

“I … I dunno. Maybe he’s asleep?”

Then the water tank suddenly tipped over, smashing on the ground, and tentacles and sharp teeth lunged for Gideon.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: vomit, starvation as a form of torture. This chapter's Spanish translations were done by aspiring-procrastinator.tumblr.com.

The water in the tank had started to get a little murky, so Marcos couldn’t really see them until they had gotten closer. While laying on the bottom of the tank would have been a good strategy, it honestly was happening because Marcos didn’t have the energy to swim around.

So when he could see the unknown child - short and plump and must have plenty of meat on his bones - through the glass, Marcos wasted no time in lunging for him.

It resulted in the tank shattering, but Marcos didn’t care.

He wrapped his tentacles around the child, not even going to bother with the hypnosis. He released nothing but poison. He was small prey, it wouldn’t take long to feast upon his flesh. He needed food, he was so hungry - !

Gideon was freaking out, and he tried to pull away from Marcos, but while his tentacles were not as strong as an octopus’s, he was far from weak, and his adrenaline was giving him a burst of strength and vigor.

He was going to eat this morsel, and nothing was going to stop him.

Nothing except an electric prod to the face.

As Marcos sunk his teeth into Gideon’s shoulder, ripping the clothing fabric off and rearing his head back to take a good bite, Dipper had quickly looked around the room. He grabbed something that looked like a weapon, then his thumb brushed against an on switch. He pressed the switch, then the rod came to life, giving an electrical spark.

With quick thinking, Dipper hurriedly swung the rob back and socked Marcos in the face with it.

Marcos screeched and let go of Gideon due to surprise and pain. Gideon was unsteady on his feet due to the poison, but adrenaline kept him from falling over.

“Holy shit!” Gideon shouted.

“Back up the stairs!” Dipper ordered, letting Gideon run up first. Dipper went after him, facing down into the basement, the prod trained in front of him, keeping Marcos at bay.

Marcos, realizing his prey was escaping, pulled himself along the glass-covered, cold basement floor. He wasn’t going to survive this, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to fight.

The children were more concerned about escaping, and that was fine. Marcos pulled himself up the stairs, using mostly his arms to lift himself up. His tentacles were rather useless outside of poisoning others and having sex, but there was much strength in his arms still.

His adrenaline was starting to wane, however, so by the time he got to the top of the stairs, it was all he could do to keep the door from closing all the way.

The boy brought the electrical prod down upon him, and he screamed, but he pushed the door further open. He heard a “thunk” and a pained sound, so he could only assume he had injured the boy with the door.

Good.

But by this point, all Marcos could do was lay there in the hallway.

This was it. This was the end. He was going to die like this.

He hated humans. He never should’ve…. No matter how … interesting….

“Gideon!?”

“Ghost Eyes! I - I feel woozy, ugh….”

“What the hell is going on!?”

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!”

“Dipper! What happened!?” Mabel asked, stopping just short of hugging Dipper when she saw the very live weapon in his hand.

“How did you get that, that’s from the base-!” Ford started, then he paled as he saw that Marcos had not only gotten out of the tank, but out of the basement and was currently laying on the floor, body twitching.

“What the hell were you doing in the basement!? I’ve told you you’re not supposed to be down there without permission and without someone with you!”

“Gideon was with me, and you never told me that, you told Stan that! I thought it was just ‘cause you didn’t want him having sex with the merman! I thought you wouldn’t bring him in here if he was dangerous!”

“He hasn’t been!” Stan said.

“Tell that to Gideon, he tried to eat him!”

“Oh dear, Fiddleford, get the first aid kit from downstairs, it has the anti-venom,” Ford said.

“Anti-venom!? He’s poisonious!?” Gideon shrieked.

“Now, calm down, an increased heart rate will make it spread faster.”

Gideon just about fainted at that. Ghost Eyes was there to catch him.

Stan approached Marcos cautiously. He looked him over and he frowned. Something looked off about him. He could only assume the electrical burns were from the weapon Dipper was holding. He didn’t blame Dipper for that. But something about this just didn’t … feel right.

“Tengo … hambre… .”

“¿Desde cuándo no comes?”

Marcos tilted his head to look up at Stanley. The Spanish was the only reason he could tell the difference between Stan and Ford in that moment.

“Dos … semanas… .”

Stan remained quiet for a moment, then he went into the kitchen.

He opened the fridge, grabbed what looked edible for Marcos, then slammed the fridge door shut.

Fiddleford returned from downstairs via the elevator with the anti-venom, and Ford started to treat Gideon.

Stan fed Marcos, and Marcos dug into the food ravenously.

“So,” Stan said, not turning around to look at Ford. “Don’t go into the basement or we might do something that interferes with your research, huh?”

“Yes, exactly,” Ford said. “You two really should not have - !”

“So what were you researching, Ford?”

“Pardon?”

“What could you have possibly been researching,” Stan started to turn around to look at him, “that would have required keeping food from him for two weeks?”

The silence that followed the question created a tension that a knife could’ve cut through.

The only sound was that of Dipper turning the electrical rod off.

“I - I have no idea -”

“Don’t lie to me, Ford. You were always a shitty liar.”

Ford flinched.

“… He couldn’t tell me how long his species could live without food.”

Ford wouldn’t look at Stanley, and Stan was breathing heavy.

“Soos! Spitfire! We’re takin’ him back to the damn ocean! McGucket, help ‘em get the second water tank! Wendy, watch the kids!”

“Yes sir,” Wendy said, giving him a little salute; both she and Soos had tagged along after Stan and Ford had gotten the text from Dipper and Mabel’s phone that Dipper was at the mansion. They had been expecting something shady going on with Gideon. This wasn’t a preferred scenario.

Fiddleford took Spitfire and Soos down to the basement, telling them the code to get into the elevator, then the two men carried the second, smaller tank into the elevator. Once it was on the upper floor, they worked on filling it with clean water. Once Marcos had eaten as much as he could stand while being not submerged in water, Stan picked Marcos up and put him into the tank as gently as he could manage.

Ford winced as he heard Stan’s back crack, but Stan fought through the pain. Soos and Spitfire carried Marcos through the hallway and out the front door.

Stan slammed the door behind him, and the silence in the building was palpable.

“Are you feel better, Gideon?” Ghost Eyes asked after a while.

“The - the anti-venom seems to be working, so yeah,” Gideon said.

Dipper dropped the now-harmless rod onto the floor.

“He - he was just hungry?”

Ford cleared his throat.

“It seems so, yes.”

“I - I thought he was just being a - a jerk.” Monster. Evil. Like Jimmy.

“You shouldn’t have been in the basement,” Ford reiterated.

“I - I’m -” Dipper started, but Mabel spoke up.

“And you shouldn’t have been starving him to death in the first place! He’s Mermando’s family!”

“I had a scientific question and sought about solving it in a scientific fashion, I wasn’t going to let him die!”

“What you did was wrong, and I don’t care why you did it! And you tried to lie about it!” 

“You just don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t understand! How could you do that and think that it was okay!? And if you’d like about this, what else are you lying about!?”

“Oh, sure, get mad at me for lying! When Stanley lies all the time!?”

“He only lies to protect us!”

“So was I!”

“From what!? From you!?”

Ford was struck speechless. But Mabel wasn’t.

“Did you lie about not hurting Beatrice? Did you lie and make Dipper feel bad about thinking you did it when he saw you feeding her apples? Did you!?”

Ford didn’t answer; Dipper’s retching interrupted the conversation. Ford turned his head around to see where Dipper had puked, then looked back at Mabel.

His face was stone and serious.

“That’s enough. You’re upsetting your brother, and we all know he’s had a very rough evening. Gideon, you and your … friend should probably leave. If you have any concerns or complications, don’t hesitate to call.”

“O-okay….” Gideon said, having moved to rub Dipper’s back in an attempt to comfort him. “Are you gonna be all right, Dipper?”

He just made a whimpering noise and moved his hand to his throat. He was in pain.

“I - I see. I’ll - I’ll call ya tomorrow, okay? Okay. Uh, good night, uh, everyone.”

Gideon and Ghost Eyes left, leaving just Ford, the children, Wendy and Fiddleford.

Ford helped Dipper get to his bedroom, and Wendy handled cleaning up the throw-up.

“Girls … what was that about … Ford and Beatrice?” Fiddleford asked.

Meanwhile, Stan drove all the way to the ocean, Spitfire riding shotgun and Soos in the backseat.

When they reached the ocean, Stan attempted to help Spitfire with the tank, but he really had injured his back, so Soos ended up having to do it. Together, they tipped the tank water into the ocean, and Marcos floated into the sea.

“Lo siento. Por todo.” Stan said.

Marcos had recovered a decent bit on the trip to the ocean. He still looked injured, and Stan wouldn’t blame him if he never trusted humans ever again. But he was moving around, and his eyes were better focused.

Marcos stared up at Stanley, then pushed himself up on his tentacles enough to he could reach up and kiss Stanley one last time.

He then disappeared into the ocean.

“Soos?”

“Yes, Mr. Pines?”

“Can you drive us back?”

“Sure, Mr. Pines.”

Spitfire chose to sit in the back with Stanley. Soos occasionally looked back at them with the rearview mirror.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Spitfire asked quietly. But the radio wasn’t playing, so Soos could still hear.

Stan grunted.

It took a moment, but Spitfire slipped off his leather jacket and draped it across Stan’s shoulders. Stan ended up leaning his head onto Spitfire’s shoulders. Spitfire wrapped his arm around Stan.

It was silent all the way back.


	27. Chapter 27

Dipper lay in bed, Ford having helped him get out of his vomit-stained clothes and freshen up and tucked him into bed. They didn’t talk outside of Ford asking him if he wanted a glass of water or anything before he brushed his teeth and went to bed. Dipper simply shook his head.

He stared at the ceiling. He wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.

He heard the footsteps in the hall. Stan, Spitfire, and Soos must’ve been back.

None of them stopped into his room, and there was no reason for them to.

Wendy had proposed they make it a girls’ sleepover night, and so he could hear Wendy talking a little too loudly in the next bedroom over. He knew he could go over there and not be so alone in the dark….

But he couldn’t make himself get out of the bed.

He … he knew he had to protect and rescue Gideon, but Marcos had been starving. He had been … he had only been doing what anyone else would’ve done. Identifying the closest food source and jumping at the chance to eat it.

It just happened that humans were one of his food options.

It was his fault Gideon was down there. All his fault. He hadn’t any idea what was going on down there, and Dipper shouldn’t have assumed it would’ve been safe.

He had been so _stupid_. And it had put his friend in danger.

He had electrocuted Grunkle Stan’s new boyfriend when said boyfriend had been starving to death.

Stan must hate him now….

Alone in his room, there was no reason to feel embarrassed about breaking down in tears.

He had forgotten what time it had been earlier, he had gone non-verbal in front of Gideon and Ghost Eyes, he had put Gideon in danger, scared his sister, tortured a merman, gone against Ford’s instructions - the _Author’s_ instructions - and hurt Grunkle Stan.

The darkness and the stress of the day were great at convincing Dipper that he indeed was the worst. In the middle of sobbing, Dipper had to get up and run to the bathroom to vomit once more. This was at about 1am, when no one else was awake.

Stan had been too tired to confront Ford about what he had done when he came back. Fiddleford was waiting for morning to confront Ford about Beatrice. So Ford spent the night in one of Fiddleford’s many guest rooms, with only his own thoughts to keep him company.

_You did what you had to do._

_It was important research._

_He was a danger to Stanley._

_He deserved it for what he did on the boat._

_Killing Beatrice was for Fiddleford’s and Stanley’s own good. They just don’t know it yet._

_You know who else would hurt you and others to make a point? To make themselves feel better about themselves? Or just because it was fun?_

The tension in Ford’s body grew as his own thoughts put him in a vulnerable place.

Things Filbrick and Bill would say fluttered around in his head, and he remembered what he had said to Mabel, and he could hear his father in those words, and it made him sick.

Mabel was right. What he had done was wrong. And he had done something wrong just to make her be quiet. He used her brother against her and tried to make her feel guilty for calling him out…. It was a classic move Filbrick had used on him and Stanley multiple times, and Ford couldn’t believe he had actually done it.

All he had been thinking about was getting out of a tough situation without getting himself into trouble.

And he had acted like his father in order to do it.

And he had yelled at Dipper for going into the basement when the basement wouldn’t have been dangerous in the first place if it hadn’t been for Ford.

He was hurting his family, and he had hurt his friend…. And yet he wasn’t guilty over what he did to Marcos. He was upset that they had found out and were hurt by it.

Like Bill was only ever upset when horrible things he had done later bit him in the ass.

By morning, Ford had packed all his things and checked the hallways for other stirring creatures before lugging his bags out of his room and carrying them down to the front door.

The only one who was even remotely awake at the hour that Ford had left was Dipper, but he hadn’t slept at all. He was certainly in no position to be getting out of bed and investigating anything.

Dipper ultimately had only gotten two hours worth of sleep before Wendy snuck in to check on him and wake him up for breakfast.

Dipper swore he wasn’t going to be able to keep any food down at all. Possibly not even his meal replacement shakes. His eyes were red from crying, and his mouth felt far too dry, and he just generally felt horrible.

Dipper drug his feet as he entered the kitchen, holding onto the doorway to steady himself.

The tension in the kitchen was high, though Ford was no where to be seen. Soos and Wendy were both still there, Soos doing them all a favor and cooking. Stan only had a mug of coffee that he was drinking slowly. Dipper could tell that the man was thinking hard about what he was going to do. Fiddleford looked lost in thought, and Dipper didn’t know what that meant. Either he was thinking on what to say to Ford, or he was having a memory lapse. But he had been having fewer and fewer of those lately, so it was probably wondering what to say to Ford….

He did essentially learn that Ford was a suspect in the death of his raccoon wife. And Ford was his best friend….

This was all Dipper’s fault….

“G-Grunkle Stan?” Dipper spoke up.

Stan looked up from his coffee.

“I - I’m sorry about Marcos.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Stan said. “You hadn’t known what was going on down there. You only did what you had to do in order to protect yourself.”

“Y-yeah, but -”

“The person who should be apologizing is Ford,” Mabel said, arms crossed.

Her sweater had a picture of a pair of pants that were on fire. Aside from the picture, the sweater was green. The fire was red and orange, and the pants were blue.

“When did you knit that?” Dipper asked.

“Last night,” Janice answered, her eyes wide in a form of awe. “We were up late talking, and she knitted the whole time, and the more she talked all angrily about Ford, the faster she knitted.”

Wendy set one of Dipper’s replacement shakes in front of him on the table, but Dipper didn’t touch it.

Stan finished his coffee, then stood up.

“Well. Time to get his sorry butt out of bed and give him a piece of my mind. Now that I know what I’m gonna say. I’ll drag him over here so you can chew him out too, McGucket.”

“Oh, uh, take your time?” Fiddleford said.

Dipper finally took his seat.

“Are you okay?” he asked Fiddleford.

“I … I don’t know. All this about … the merman and Ford and … and I think I’m rememberin’ something I don’t think I was rememberin’ before. Almost like … almost like there’s something I should’ve known about this whole thing….”

“W-what do you mean?”

All eyes were on Fiddleford now, and Fiddleford fidgeted a bit.

“I - I’m not sure. This just … feels familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Wendy said.

They stopped talking when they heard the hurried thunks of Stan’s shoes hitting the hardwood floor.

“He’s not in his room, and all his shit’s packed up!”

“Grunkle Stan!”

“Not now, Mabel!”

Mabel’s crusade against swearwords was a losing battle.

“Wait, what do you mean packed up?” Fiddleford asked.

“I mean all his bags and stuff is gone! He’s run off! Flown the coop! When I get my hands on him I’m gonna - !”

“But where would he go?” Dipper asked.

“We’re gonna have to figure that out, because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get away with pulling this shit and then bailing on us!”

Fiddleford took out his smart phone and checked his bank account.

“Looks like he used the debit card to use the ATM for a few hundred, but that’s all I can figure. Probably using cash to hide his trail,” Fiddleford said.

“And the car and bike are still out front. He’s walking! That’s good, he’ll be easier to find!” Stan said.

Stan then grabbed Fiddleford by his shirt.

“Kids! Stay here!”

Stan and Fiddleford then disappeared.

Mabel hopped out of her chair.

“Like heck we are! C’mon, Janice! Dipper!”

“Mabel, wait - !”

Janice got out of her chair and hurried after Mabel. Dipper just slumped further into his chair.

He was too tired. He’d have to try to catch up to them…. Or something.

“M-Maybe I’ll be the guy at the phone in case he tries to call … ?” Dipper suggested.

Spitfire slipped on his biker jacket and headed out, too. Wendy and Soos stayed at the mansion with Dipper. Wendy made him drink his meal replacement shake, but Dipper couldn’t keep it down.

Ford Pines sat at the bus stop, waiting for the first bus of the day to arrive, but it was two hours late.

He heard the bike before he saw it, but by the time the bike came into view, Ford knew it was too late. He tried to get up and run for it anyway, but Spitfire was definitely speeding and cut him off, coming to a very quick stop for the speed he was going at.

Ford glared at the man before him, and Spitfire glared back.

“Get on,” Spitfire said.

“No.”

“Get on the bike, Stanford.”

“Make me.”

Spitfire and Ford stared each other down.

About twenty minutes later, Ford was sitting on the back of Spitfire’s bike with cracked glasses and a bloody nose he was trying to handle with one hand while also holding onto the back of Spitfire with the other arm. Spitfire was now going the proper speed limit back into Gravity Falls.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Ford refused to say anything.

“Well, I am.”

And Spitfire made the turn necessary for going to Greasy’s Diner.

Meanwhile, Fiddleford sat in the passenger’s seat of Stan’s car while Stan drove around town, ignoring all the speed limit signs and barely paying attention to where he was going as he scanned the sidewalks for Ford.

“He’s gotta be around here somewhere, the prick - !”

“What’re ya plannin’ on doin’ to him when ya find him?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan paused and slowed the car down as he was caught off guard by the question.

“I - I dunno. Yell at him I guess. Have an argument. I dunno.”

Stan then hit the steering wheel in frustration.

“I told him not to fight people for me! I told him - ! He’s been a loose canon ever since Jimmy! He’s been electrocuting merpeople, killing spider women, and shooting vampires in the shoulder, all because for one reason or another, they think I’m delicious, and it doesn’t matter if they’re actually dangerous or not! Yeah, Darlene was gonna eat my head and suck the delicious bloody insides out of me like my neck was a straw, and yeah, our first impression with Marcos wasn’t the best, but Esteban and I had made a perfectly legitimate business agreement and he just - flew off the handle! And Marcos had agreed to be a science project! He didn’t have to agree to anything I said, and he trusted me not to put him in danger and - !”

Fiddleford didn’t know what to do when he saw tears start to build up in Stan’s eyes.

“I’m supposed to be able to trust him! He’s my brother! And sometimes, yeah, you do have to kill the monster trying to eat your face! But he’s - ! But he’s - ! The hell ever happened to that kid I had to defend on the beach!?”

The car wasn’t moving any more. They were stopped right in the middle of the road, not even in front of a traffic light, and the other cars were moving around them as they realized that they weren’t going anywhere.

“Stanley - ?”

“And he keeps pressing to find out who hurt me in the first place! Who made me feel like it doesn’t matter what happens to my body, but how the hell am I supposed to tell him if he goes out of his way to try to kill anyone who’s ever tried to hurt me!? I don’t want anything done about it, I just want it to stop haunting me! It’s not like the shit we put up with from Pa or Ma, that at least we can talk to each other about! I can’t - I can’t tell him about - !”

The feel of sand against the back of his neck crept back into his skin’s memory, and it made Crampelter’s name stick in the back of his throat where it died.

Stan didn’t expect the hand that appeared on his forearm, and it made him jump, but then his eyes landed on Fiddleford.

“It’s all right. We’ll find Stanford and get this all sorted out. Try to get him to understand he can’t just do that. Though I don’t know how successful we’ll be. I think I … remember havin’ a similar conversation at some point. Somethin’ about … somethin’ called Experiment 210. Fer some reason, the name Hashbrown keeps comin’ to mind. I … think I named it that?”

They both jumped when the sound of knocking on the car window surprised them.

Stan rolled down the window. Blubs was standing there.

“You two doin’ all right? You’re obstructing traffic.”

“Uh,” Stan said, his eyes still wet, though he wasn’t crying. “Y-yeah, we, uh -”

“I don’t suppose you could help us locate Stanford Pines?” Fiddleford asked.

Meanwhile, Mabel and Janice were running around town, but losing steam.

“He - might be - in the library?” Mabel panted, pulling at the neck of her sweater.

“I - I don’t know,” Janice gasped, holding her side. “I - I’m not even sure why we’re trying to find him. I mean … he’s been nice, but it’s - it’s really scary that he was keeping that thing in the basement and -”

“And torturing it,” Mabel finished for her, sitting down on the edge of the sidewalk. Janice sat down next to her.

“He’s a little creepy. I know he’s your family, and I’m sorry if -”

“Nah, it’s okay. I mean, I love Grunkle Ford, but what’s been happening is super messed up.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Mabel leaned over and rested her head on Janice’s shoulder. Janice tensed up a bit, but she moved her arm to hug Mabel closer. It was a little awkward because Mabel was a little bit taller than her, but it … felt nice.

“I know morality is relative, but Marcos is Mermando’s family, and it’s never good to torture people ‘cause that’s just not nice. I know Marcos wasn’t a nice person, but that’s not permission to do something just as bad to him.”

“Yeah. Eye for an eye just means everyone ends up blind,” Janice said.

“Exactly!”

Mabel straightened up and looked Janice in the face. Janice found herself blushing, but Mabel didn’t seem to notice.

“I have to get Grunkle Ford to understand that, and he has to apologize to Dipper! Dipper’s vomited a lot over the stress this has caused, and the only reason Dipper’s even hanging out with Gideon is because Gideon somehow got involved after the thing at the lake, so that’s technically Grunkle Ford’s fault too, and Gideon’s creepy! The sooner this gets resolved, the sooner everything can get back to normal, and no one has to worry about killer mermen in the basement or creepy boys trying to get at Dipper like he had tried to get at me…. You saw that fireworks display with Dipper’s name in it, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“Gideon did the same firework show for me when I was stuck dating him with no way out. That’s what Gideon does, he’s really great at first, but then he keeps heaping on the displays of affection and raising the stakes and makes it really hard to say no, and then you do say no, and he tries to kill your family and steal your house and hurt people. And Dipper knows that, and I don’t know why he thinks Gideon’s changed, and I want to believe that Gideon’s gotten better because I don’t want him to be a bad person because I don’t want Dipper or anyone else to be in danger, but I can’t - I can’t - !”

Mabel started to cry, but unlike Stan, she didn’t feel like she had to hide it.

“All I can think about is how I had thought Jimmy Snakes was gonna be a good boyfriend, and then he turned out to be a demon-possessed monster who beat Grunkle Stan, and there was nothing I could do. Dipper and Grunkle Ford were the ones to protect everyone from him the first time and the last time, and he’s not even here, but now Grunkle Ford is being a crazy person and Dipper’s being more forgiving than he usually is, and I’m so scared they’re gonna get hurt, and I can’t protect them or Grunkle Stan!”

Janice didn’t know what else to do. She just pulled Mabel into a hug, and Mabel started crying on her shoulder. Janice brought a hand up and gently petted Mabel’s hair, trying to be comforting.

“I - I just want everyone to be safe - !”

“Me too…. I want all of you to be safe, too,” Janice said.

After a while, Mabel got a hold of herself and pulled away, wiping her eyes dry.

Janice’s stomach growled. Mabel gave a little smile.

“We didn’t really get to finish breakfast, did we?” Mabel said.

“Not really, no.”

“Well, maybe Grunkle Ford went to Greasy’s Diner or something. I think I got a little pocket money.”

“I’ve got a twenty.”

“Whoa-ho! Awesome! How’d you get that?”

“Daddy says a lady always needs cash money on her when traveling. He gave it to me when we first got here. I hadn’t felt like spending it yet.”

“That can get us two chocolate milks and a stack of pancakes! We can share the pancakes.”

“Sh-share? You … wouldn’t mind sharing food with me?”

“Of course not. You’re my friend!”

Friend. Janice still had no idea if she actually had a shot with Mabel, but she was still blushing.

Meanwhile, Ford and Spitfire sat across from each other in a booth at the diner, Ford having successfully stopped the nosebleed. His glasses, on the other hand, would need to be repaired professionally. Ford only ordered a cup of coffee, claiming he wasn’t hungry.

His growling stomach proved to both of them that he was a liar and that watching Spitfire eat his bacon and eggs was tormenting him. Spitfire ate slowly on purpose, and Ford knew it.

“So,” Spitfire started between bites of egg, “why’d you run off?”

“Why should I tell you?” Ford asked.

Spitfire chewed, then swallowed.

“Because depending on your answer, I’ll either take you back to the mansion or help you get out of town.”

Ford furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding the motivation here.

Spitfire continued to eat.

“We both want to protect Stan. I don’t know much about you or how you two got estranged or how you’ve made up. But I do know that he won’t like you being gone. However, you’ve also proven yourself to be dangerous to certain people. I’m not gonna lie; so am I. You aren’t the first person at this table to have attempted to kill someone.”

Ford’s eyebrows knitted together further, not quite sure what Spitfire was admitting to. But the man across from him had tried to kill someone before. That had a lot of possibilities, some of them very not good and definitely not good in context of Spitfire’s relation to Stan.

“So right now we need a deciding factor,” Spitfire said. “Why’d you run off?”

Ford weighed his options, but ultimately chose to tell the truth.

“I had said some things to the children that hurt them in order to avoid myself getting into trouble. Last night, I realized that my actions make me no better than my father, who I despise. And the fact that I only felt bad about Stan, Dipper, and Mabel being upset made me realize I’m also no better than … someone else I can’t stand.” Spitfire didn’t need to know about Bill. “And … I don’t want the children - or Stan - to be hurt by anyone like my father or … the other one. So I left.”

Spitfire finished off the eggs. Only a few bacon strips were left.

“Is running away really your only option? Is it really too late to try to change? Put an end to the cycle?” Spitfire asked.

Ford just stared at Spitfire.

“I’ve already hurt them. I can’t turn back time and un-hurt them. The best thing to do is minimize the pain and suffering.”

“Do you really think your sudden departure won’t hurt them? Especially after how long Stan hurt over your absence to begin with?”

It took Ford a moment to realize Spitfire could only be talking about the ten years they had been apart before the thirty years Stan spent trying to fix the portal.

It took Ford another moment for him to realize that Spitfire had no way to knowing that they had met up after the first ten years because Spitfire didn’t know of the portal. He wasn’t sure what Stan had told him, so it was entirely possible that Spitfire had thought they hadn’t seen in each other in ten years or twenty or thirty or more. There was no telling what Spitfire did and did not know about Ford from Stanley. Or what context Spitfire had for everything.

“The children would get over it.”

Stanley would just be angry.

“Are you sure?” Spitfire asked.

That gave Ford pause. He frowned.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Ford asked.

Spitfire shrugged.

“All I know is that Stan hated it when people left, more than anything else. And I’ve been around the twins enough to know that they’ll both miss you, even if they’re angry with you. And that Dipper adores you and has a lot in common with Stan.”

Ford processed that for a moment. His eyes widened as Ford realized what Spitfire was saying.

“You mean … I might be hurting them more than I anticipate if I just leave now….”

Spitfire nodded, then took a drink of his coffee.

“Some people would love for someone in their lives to just up and vanish. Others would rather put up with anything else. I really don’t think your family is the type to wish anyone out of their lives. Not if they care about them. That said, there’s no point in you staying if you’re not going to improve your behavior. So what’s it gonna be? Are you willing to work hard for them?”

Ford thought about it.

“How … how would I even start?” Ford asked.

Spitfire smiled at him.

“That’s what therapists are for.”

“There you are!” rang Mabel’s voice through the diner.

Ford and Spitfire turned their heads to see their favorite girls hurrying down the aisle.

“Just what were you thinking, running off like that!?” Mabel admonished, putting her hands on her hips.

Ford had to force himself not to laugh; she looked just like his mother when she glared at him like that.

“Apparently I wasn’t,” Ford said, glancing at Spitfire. “Luckily I ran into someone who could set me straight.”

Janice gasped. “What happened to your nose?”

“Ah…. Nothing you need to worry about.”

After bacon and pancakes and actually making Ford eat something (Spitfire’s treat), Ford and Mabel walked while Spitfire and Janice rode the motorbike back to the mansion. Stan and Fiddleford saw them as they went, pulled over, then demanded that Ford get his ass into the car.

“You’re in so much trouble, mister!” Stan said.

Ford actually smiled.

“Grunkle Ford, you’re in trouble, you’re not supposed to be happy.”

“Oh, I know. I guess … I guess I’m just realizing that I’d rather be in trouble and with family than not in trouble without.”

“Nice try, but that’s not gonna get you out of your time-out,” Mabel said.

Ford laughed.


	28. Chapter 28

At the mansion, Ford sat at the kitchen table, staring up at a Stanley with his arms crossed and a frown on his face and a Fiddleford who was standing behind Stanley, his hands fidgeting.

“You are not allowed any more science experiments for the duration of our visit here in Gravity Falls.” Stan said.

“Understood,” Ford said.

“And I mean no science experiments whatsoever. Not even helping Fiddleford with his.”

“I … I understand.”

Stan stared Ford down for a moment, then he uncrossed his arms.

“You also owe Dipper and Gideon an apology.”

“Yes. I do.”

“He’s all yours, Fiddlenerd.”

Stan than left the kitchen, and Fiddleford and Stanford stared at each other for a while.

“I … I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say,” Fiddleford said.

“Well, this is, um, punishment assignment, so … whatever you think is appropriate to … sentence me with regarding the …” Ford coughed, “the murder of your late raccoon wife….”

Fiddleford sighed.

“I know. And I’m … sad and feel betrayed. But … I have the strangest sensation I should have expected this from you.”

Ford frowned. The statement hit like a punch to the gut. And he figured he deserved it, but he wasn’t sure why Fiddleford would say that.

“Who is Hashbrown?” Fiddleford asked. 

Ford’s eyebrows flew up.

“Hashbrown? That … that was the name you gave Experiment 210. I had told you not to name it, but you did anyway, and we were always fighting over what was appropriate treatment of a science experiment. You named it that because it went in theme with your nickname for Tate.”

“Tater-tot….”

“Yeah….”

The silence that followed was awkward.

“Stanford, Hashbrown was a living creature, not just a science experiment. He felt pain and emotions like anything else.”

“But….”

“And you never really understood that, did you? If it wasn’t human, you never really thought of it as capable of being a person.”

Ford had nothing to say to that. He didn’t want to admit to thinking that way, but perhaps he had a point.

“And even with those you saw as people, you still weren’t always that nice to them if you thought you were smarter than them.”

Ford grimaced. That, that was true.

“You were always so good at seeing the greater good and knowing what would need to be sacrificed in order to achieve something for the bigger picture, and you’d have no problems with even sacrificing yourself for that bigger picture, but when it came to how those sacrifices would affect those around you and even yourself, you were always so blind…. And I shouldn’t have expected you to be any different regarding whether or not it was healthy for me to be married to a raccoon.”

“F-Fiddleford, you shouldn’t blame yourself for something I did,” Ford said, finding it rather unorthodox that he was needing to comfort the man who was supposed to be punishing him for animal murder. 

“M-Mabel said that Dipper had called you out about it and you made him doubt himself?”

“I - I did indeed do that. He ended up vomiting from the stress of supposedly accusing a family member of murder, which ended the fishing trip early.”

“Then I think what you need to do is make it up to him. He adores you, after all, and I’m sure that really hurt his feelings.”

“You’re right…. But what about making it up to you?”

Fiddleford took a deep breath.

“I don’t want you to do anything about it. I think I … just want to be left alone for now.”

“All … all right,” Ford said, standing up. “I can do that.”

Ford chose to leave the kitchen first, intending to locate Dipper.

When he found Dipper, the boy was finishing pulling on his leather jacket and was all decked out in his biker outfit again.

They made eye contact, but then Dipper ducked his head and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” Ford asked.

“Out. Gideon called. He’s feeling better.”

“Oh, that’s good! Very good…. Dipper, I -”

But Ford must’ve taken too long working up to what he wanted to say, because Dipper had opened the door, then closed it right when he had said Dipper’s name.

The frown returned to Ford’s face. Making it up to them … might be harder than he thought.

But he thought back to his conversation with Spitfire. His family would be worth it. His friendship with Fiddleford would be worth it.

Time went by, and Stan called for Mabel.

“Mabel! There’s a message in a bottle sticking out of the kitchen drain with your name on it! How the heck did it even get here?”

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan!”

Mabel then grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, then pulled out the message.

“Who’s it from?” Janice asked.

“Mermando,” Mabel explained. She cleared her throat, then read it aloud, “Dear Mabel, As I told you in my previous letter, I truly am sorry for what had happened the other day with my cousin at the beach. However, what I wasn’t able to tell you between then and now was that he had been missing until very recently. While he will not share many details, it is clear that he had been captured and tortured by humans, and my kind are steering clear of humanity for now…. This is the last letter I will be able to write to you under this new scrutiny and safety precaution. I recommend staying out of the ocean water until the fear dies down. Best wishes, Mermando.”

Mabel lowered the letter, her lower lip trembling a bit.

“I’m sorry, Mabel,” Janice said.

Mabel shot a glare at Ford, who had been innocently enjoying a sandwich as she was reading it, and he bowed his head in shame.

“I’m sorry as well,” Ford said.

Mabel pouted, but she dropped her glare. Ford understood that to mean that she was choosing not to hold a grudge.

“Why don’t we call Candy and Grenda? See if they’re available to play?” Ford suggested.

“Okay,” Mabel said.

Janice gripped Mabel’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Mabel squeezed it back, and she gave Janice a bit of a smile.

In no time at all, it seemed, Mabel, Janice, Ford, and Spitfire were meeting up with Candy and Grenda. The girls started talking about this and that (from the sound of it, it sounded like boy talk), and Ford and Spitfire stood a bit apart from them, to give them space and so they could keep an eye on them.

“How’d it go with Stan and Fiddleford?” Spitfire asked in a low voice.

“Fiddleford only asked that I apologize to Dipper for lying to him and to leave him alone. Stan’s requirements certainly make me feel like I’m being punished, and in a way I feel that that means Stan won’t be so angry with me. I’m nervous things won’t be the same between me and Fiddleford.”

“Well, you did kill his raccoon. Slash wife. Slash pet?”

“Who knows,” Ford said.

Ford watched the girls talking. Mabel, Grenda, and Candy managed to get pretty excited over talking about boys, but he could see that Janice was noticeably … nervous.

“So, Janice, is there anybody you like?” Grenda’s booming voice floated over.

Ford and Spitfire watched as Janice became startled by the question, and she stammered before admitting that she did like someone. Ford recognized the look of panic and desire to escape that appeared on Janice’s face when the reaction to her admission became “Ooooh! Tell us, tell us, tell us!”

“Girls, don’t harass each other,” Spitfire warned.

“Do we know him!? Does he know!? Have you asked him out!?” Mabel asked.

“Uh - uh - I - uh - ! Never mind!”

Janice then bolted and ran for Spitfire, hugging him and pulled part of his jacket around her as a type of shield. Spitfire wrapped an arm around her and patted her shoulder.

“There, there,” Spitfire sighed.

Mabel, Janice, Ford, and Spitfire were still out and about when Dipper came back to the mansion. Stan and Fiddleford heard the door open, then Stan got up to see who it was.

“Grunkle Stan? Mabel?” Dipper called.

“The girls, Spitfire, and Ford are out, kiddo,” Stan said. “Fidds and I are in the kitchen.”

When Dipper rounded the corner, Stan felt his stomach drop.

“Kid, what happened!?”

Dipper had a big black eye.

“Well, a lot of things happened. The short story is I got into a fight, and now I think I have a boyfriend?”

Stan experienced a little bit of a flashback to how he had met Jimmy Snakes.

“I - I think I wanna have the long story,” Stan said. “Fiddleford, can ya - ?”

“Already on it,” Fiddleford said, getting up to get a first-aid kit.

Dipper got situated at the kitchen table.

“Okay, so what happened was….”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just taking the time to make sure you all know that Gideon is the same age as Dipper in this fic. I headcanon Gideon as the twins' age because I really see no reason to think that Gideon is nine/ten in the show. So he's short and fat. So what? I don't see anyone thinking Grenda is thirteen/fourteen just because she's bigger. And no one says Candy's nine/ten even though she's shorter. As far as I'm concerned, they're just all the same age with varying body types.

When Dipper arrived at the place where he was supposed to be meeting up with Gideon, he found Gideon attempting to play basketball with his prison buddies. Dipper stood at the side for a bit, smiling as he watched.

Gideon was way too short for basketball, but he was trying, and it was a little clear the kid didn’t really do much exercise outside of all the dancing he had done as a fake psychic. And Ghost Eyes and the others were so encouraging of everything Gideon wanted to try and do.

It was cute. And sweet.

“Hey, Gideon!” Dipper called after Gideon attempted to make a basket.

He lifted his arm and waved. Gideon didn’t seem to hear him at first, so he took a breath and was about to call out again.

Then Dipper watched as a different ball hit Gideon in the back of the head.

“Ow!” Gideon shouted, turning his head to see who it was.

Dipper recognized the kid as one of the many boys Mabel had flirted with. He was laughing.

“Awww, does the dork not have psychic powers to shoot the hoops for him?” the kid taunted.

Gideon bared his teeth and took a few steps forward, but Ghost Eyes put a hand on his shoulder.

“Gideon, you’re on probation,” Ghost Eyes warned.

Gideon let out a frustrated grunt.

Dipper got the idea before he had thought it through, and he started to run down the slight hill he was on.

“I’m not!” Dipper announced, careening into the play area and tackling the kid to the ground.

Gideon, Ghost Eyes, and the other prison buddies stared for a moment as Dipper and the kid started fighting, and soon there was a lot of hollering and cheering and chanting of “Fight fight fight!”

The kid managed to clock Dipper in the eye, but by the end of the fight, Dipper threw a mean left hook. The kid fell to the ground and started crying.

Without thinking about it beforehand, Dipper hacked up a loogie, then spat on him, fighting the gross feeling of needing to vomit after the phlegm tickled the back of his throat.

“Get the hell outta here,” Dipper ordered, his tone rather chill compared to the fury of the fight.

The kid got up and started hurrying away.

“And don’t let me catch you botherin’ him again!” Dipper yelled after him.

“Woo-hoo! Go Dipper!” Gideon cheered, throwing his arms into the air.

Dipper turned around and gave Gideon a smile.

“It was nothing,” Dipper said.

“Oooh, that’s gonna leave a mark, though,” Gideon said, gesturing at Dipper’s face.

Dipper raised an eyebrow, then Ghost Eyes took out a pocket mirror and showed Dipper what they were talking about.

Yep, that was a black eye. Oh well.

“Oh well. Can’t do anything about it now. So what were you wanting to do again?” Dipper asked, still smiling at Gideon.

“Oh, just hang out, do whatever. Talk a bit, probably.”

“Yeah. Talking is probably something we should do. I’m really, really sorry about yesterday.”

“That wasn’t your fault. If anything, you saved me back there, and I’m grateful for that.”

“You wouldn’t have been in trouble if I hadn’t taken you down there in the first place.”

“Yeah, but it was pretty clear your uncle was doin’ stuff you didn’t know he was doin’ down there, so it wasn’t like you knew it was dangerous. So there’s nothin’ for you to apologize for.”

“Still….”

Dipper started to frown, and Gideon took a deep breath.

“Are you hungry? We could go get something in town.”

“Ah, no, I … don’t really eat. But if you’re hungry, I’ll go with.”

“What’d’ya mean you ‘don’t eat’?”

“N-nothing, let’s just … go, if you wanna go.”

Gideon let the subject drop, but it was still a weird thing to hear. Dipper avoided eye contact until they were at the restaurant Gideon wanted and got into conversation that he was comfortable with with Gideon and his prison buddies.

“So, uh, Dipper,” Gideon spoke up eventually. “There had been … something I wanted to ask - or rather, show - you at the 4th of July celebration, but you, uh, your issue made that unimportant at the time.”

“Yeah, I should’ve … said something earlier about me and … loud noises,” Dipper said. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Ghost Eyes said. “Stuff happens.”

For a moment, Dipper wondered what Ghost Eyes knew, but Gideon cleared his throat and that got Dipper’s attention again.

“What Ghost Eyes said. I just … I had kinda paid some of Pacifica’s fireworks people to put something together for you, but now I realize that that was probably the worst idea ever, but I … still wanted to ask you something that I had planned to ask you during the fireworks show.”

“O…kay. This isn’t gonna be weird, is it?” Dipper asked.

“I - I hope not,” Gideon said, and Dipper picked up on the fact that he was rather nervous. Gideon took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you that … that these last few weeks have been really, really special to me, and … I really haven’t ever felt this way for another boy before…. And… I was wondering if … if you don’t think it’d be too weird and if it was okay with you … if … you’d like to go on a date with me?”

Dipper stared at Gideon for a while, then he laughed a bit.

“Is this a joke?” Dipper asked.

“N-no, it’s … not a joke, no.”

Gideon was turning red, and Dipper felt bad for laughing.

“And it’s not because I’m basically boy Mabel?” Dipper asked, that having been the first thing he had thought.

“No! God no, you’re - you’re a lot different from your sister. If you don’t want to, just say so!”

Dipper mulled it over for a moment. Then, upon realizing he had no real objection to it, he said, “Sure, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“You - you will?”

Dipper smiled at him.

“Yeah!”

Later that day, when Dipper was sitting in front of Stan and Fiddleford as Fiddleford patched him up, he concluded, “And that’s what my day has been like. Gideon and I go out next Friday.”

Stan sat at the kitchen table with Dipper, feeling a little … weird about the situation. But he didn’t see anything … too wrong with it.

“Part of me wants to forbid you from going, but you’re just gonna do it anyway, aren’t you?” Stan said.

Dipper nodded. Stan sighed.

“Just promise you’ll be careful and tell someone if he starts being creepy or anything like he was before, all right?”

“I promise,” Dipper said.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I know, Grunkle Stan.”

“Grunkle Stan! Dipper! We’re back!” Mabel called, and she, Janice, Spitfire, and Ford walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mabel!”

“Dipper, what happened!?”

“Well -”

“Don’t phrase it how you phrased it when I asked you,” Stan said.

“I have a boyfriend!”

“That’s even worse!”

Dipper laughed, but he was the only one who thought it was funny.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions of physical violence and rape, but no scenes actually depict these things.

The full story had not made Mabel feel any better.

“You can’t go out with Gideon! He’s creepy! And why am I the only one who seems to remember that he tried to kill you not once, but twice!?”

Ford and Stan stood awkwardly in the doorway as Dipper finished getting ready for his date.

The parallels were getting to Stan, and he wished Dipper wouldn’t wear the biker jacket, but the material was really tough and was the closest the kid had to armor. He wasn’t going to say no.

Maybe he should just put his foot down, but the words got caught in his throat.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you? As supervision?” Ford asked.

“Ghost Eyes will be there,” Dipper said.

“Y-yes, but -” Ford started, but Mabel finished for him.

“But he’s Gideon’s friend!”

“I’ve been safe with them all the other times I hung out with them, I’ll be safe this time around too. Besides, even if Gideon did turn out to be superficially nice, he is on probation, and Ghost Eyes and all his other prison buddies would like him to stay out of prison. So there’s plenty of motivation for them to keep Gideon from trying anything, even if they are ordinarily wrapped around his little finger.”

“That might be a comfort for you, but it’s just making me more worried,” Stan finally said, it being the first words to get out of him in the last hour.

Dipper turned around after finishing with smoothing out his jacket and popping the collar in the mirror. He looked up at Stan’s face, then sighed.

“If you really wanna come, Grunkle Stan, I’ll let you,” Dipper said. “I dunno if it’s just Ghost Eyes or a few of the others, but if it is just Ghost Eyes, he’ll need someone to talk to anyway.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Stan started, but then Dipper interrupted.

“I know it’s not about that,” Dipper said, and he gave Stan a knowing look, and Stan’s feelings on the matter were … complicated.

He wished he could be stronger for him - for all of them. But his emotional walls were paper thin now, and they all knew why this wasn’t sitting right with Stan.

Stan’s pride was asking him to let the kid do it on his own, be a man for God’s sake, but his fear and love for Dipper was much greater.

“Is that really okay with you?” Stan asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, smiling. “Like, I don’t think I’m in danger going, but maybe you seeing that it’s fine will make you feel better. And if I’m wrong, then you’ll be there to help me. It’s a win-win. And if Gideon has a problem with that, then this’ll be the last date.”

Stan took a deep breath.

“Okay. Where’s this date again?”

“The Club.”

“… Lemme go change then.”

Ford opened his mouth to speak, but Dipper then ducked out of the room, avoiding eye contact with him, and going to wait in the entry way.

Ford sighed.

“You still haven’t apologized yet?” Mabel asked.

“He won’t let me say anything,” Ford said. “Every time I try, he doesn’t even make an excuse for it, he just … leaves.”

Mabel frowned, but she hugged him. Ford hugged her back. She squeezed him a bit tighter.

“Everything’s been so … weird this summer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s only partly your fault,” Mabel admitted. Ford accepted that.

“Is there anything that could make it better?” Ford asked.

“Maybe…. I wish it was more like last year. Y’know, aside from the end of the world. My summer romances didn’t work out, but it was still fun hanging out with Wendy and Soos and trying to find a boyfriend. I’d get disappointed, but it was normal….”

Ford was fairly sure he knew what she was talking about. She was referring to this heavy feeling hanging over them. It used to just be connected to Jimmy Snakes’s presence in their lives, but it was as though he was still here, and things Ford did just made it worse. The thing with Gideon was making it worse. The thing with Marcos made it worse.

The anxiety refused to leave, and it was suffocating, and it was also mind-boggling that Dipper didn’t seem to be as affected by it as everyone else.

“Let’s go find Janice. Maybe you two can find something to do to make things more normal and get your mind off things,” Ford said.

Mabel nodded and let go of him, then walked out of the room. Ford followed her.

Stan finished changing, then met up with Dipper in the entry way and drove him to The Club.

Gideon had already gotten a table, one for him and Dipper, and one for Ghost Eyes nearby.

“Oh, Stanley! What a surprise! Oh, waiter! Would it be possible for there to be an extra chair for the table over here?” Gideon said.

Stan couldn’t find any hints that Gideon was opposed to Stan being there, but Stan took his seat at Ghost Eyes’s table, keeping an eye on Dipper and Gideon the whole time.

“Uh, hi,” Ghost Eyes said.

“Yeah. Hi. How’s it going?” Stan said, sounding as distracted as he felt.

The kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Stan’s brain couldn’t keep out of dark corners.

In reality, he was here in The Club, but his mind’s eye kept seeing smoky and dirty bars, smelling of cheap booze and leather jackets and the smell of Jimmy’s cigs. Stan had clung to the preference of Colombian cigars, even when things with Rico went seriously south, because the smell of cigarettes made his stomach churn far too much with memories of dark days.

It was so weird. Things with Rico had been worse, but in the last 30 years, Rico had felt further and further away from him. He had processed what had happened and been a fucking adult about it and gotten over it, even though it had been worse, what with the prison rape and threats against his life and manipulation and forcing him to do terrible things to other people. Drawing the line had cost him quite a price, but there was just things Stan had been unwilling to do, even under Rico’s threats of violence. But Stan took it like a man and got over it.

Jimmy had been easier to deal with, not as bad. And yet Jimmy still haunted him like a poltergeist.

Jimmy wasn’t even around.

Dipper and Gideon were reminding him of him and Jimmy, and it scared the shit out of him.

“You and your family got it bad, huh?” Ghost Eyes said, and it jolted Stan out of his reverie.

“Huh?” Stan asked.

“The PTSD or whatever it is. You all have it kinda bad, don’t you?” Ghost Eyes repeated.

Stan stared at him like there were lobsters crawling out of his ears.

“What makes you say that?” Stan asked.

“You spacing out. How Dipper reacted when the fireworks went off on the 4th. And your brother must have some serious paranoia he’s dealin’ with, ‘cause he seemed like a cool guy during the Apocalypse, but he had that merman in the basement. And I sure as heck don’t know how the little lady is handlin’ it, but between last summer and this one, y’all sure have a lot of excitement goin’ on.”

Stan didn’t know what to say to that.

“Could be worse,” Stan said, opting to not correct him about Dipper’s autism. It wasn’t his place to out the kid.

“If you say so,” Ghost Eyes said.

An awkward silence filled the air, interrupted by the chinking of silverware on plates and Dipper and Gideon’s laughter.

Ghost Eyes seemed content to just eat his food and sit in peace. Stan wished he could be, too.

“It was my fault,” Stan blurted out.

Ghost Eyes seemed to know what he was talking about.

“I let him into the house, and he hurt the kids, and he hurt me, and … it was my fault.”

“You talkin’ about that big guy with the fire?”

Stan nodded.

“I’m not gonna pretend like I really understand the details. But I think I got a big enough picture, and while that was a bad situation, sometimes people just fall into that stuff. It’s not anyone’s fault, especially not your family’s fault. Things just happen, though sometimes when things happen, it does mean that something about you has to change. Or it’ll keep happening. Still not your fault, but something about you has to respond to the situation in order to keep it in check. You catch my drift?”

Stan stared at Ghost Eyes for a while, then lowered his head.

“… Yeah. I think I do.”

Stan started to eat the food that was in front of him.

He still kept an eye on Dipper and Gideon. But the longer he watched, the more he didn’t see anything off about it. They were just acting like regular kids. Who actually got along.

Gideon Gleeful had always been a weird kid. But Dipper was too.

Maybe all the kid really needed was some therapy and someone he could connect to.

Maybe Dipper was right.

Stan stayed deep in thought for a long while, even as he was driving Dipper back home.

“So?” Dipper said.

“Hn?”

“What’d you think?” Dipper asked.

“I think that it looks like you were right,” Stan said.

“Really? You won’t be all worried if I go on another date?”

“I’ll let you go by yourself if that’s what you mean. But remember the talk that we had about the birds and the bees, all right?”

“I will!”

Dipper was practically bouncing in his seat.

Stan didn’t say much to the others when he got back, though he cheered up enough for Mabel’s sake.

When he ended up wandering the mansion in the middle of the night, he caught Fiddleford awake and tinkering with something in the kitchen.

“Oh! Stanley! I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah, you didn’t…. I was actually kinda hoping you’d be up.”

“Oh? What’s on your mind?”

“I … I think it’s time I got something off my chest…. It’s okay if you don’t want to hear it, but if you do wanna hear it, you’ve gotta promise not to tell Ford or the kids or Spitfire. I don’t want them knowing about it.”

Fiddleford set what he was working with down and pulled up a chair.

“You can always talk to me, Stanley.”

Stan took a deep breath.

If he was going to change, he had to stop keeping everything that hurt inside.

Jimmy might be haunting him the most, but it made sense to start at the beginning.

With Crampelter.


	31. Chapter 31

Fiddleford had no words when Stanley was finished, and Stanley felt like he had made a huge mistake.

Fiddleford wasn’t saying anything, and Stanley was going through every little thing that he had done wrong in opening up.

He and Fiddleford weren’t that close, he was Ford’s friend, not his, why did he think this was a good idea, why didn’t he just call up a fucking therapist (don’t be stupid, you know why, you’d never call a therapist, not after the mental institution), why didn’t he just tell Spitfire, (and he’d never look at you the same way again, the last thing you ever want to see in that man’s face is pity, he looks up to you, dammit), why didn’t he have any goddamn friends of his own he could’ve opened up to, (because you’re a worthless piece of shit and always have been, Jimmy was right about you, Dad was right about you, why would anyone want to listen to your bullshit, who fucking cares what Crampelter did to you - )

“And you’ve kept this to yourself this entire time?” Fiddleford asked softly.

The whispers and taunts whirling around in Stan’s brain quieted, but they still murmured in the back of his mind.

“Yeah,” Stan said, his tongue thick in the back of his throat. “I never told nobody. All - all I could really think about was how it was better me than Ford. ‘Cause - ‘cause even then, Ford really wasn’t - you know how he is. He’d never’ve recovered.”

Fiddleford nodded in agreement. But he didn’t stop there.

“Have you, though?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan swallowed hard.

“No,” Stan admitted, feeling smaller than he had felt in a very long time.

The silence that hung in the air between them was suffocating for Stan. He wished he could tell how Fiddleford felt about it.

“I’m going to make us some tea. It helps relax ya,” Fiddleford said, and he got up and went about fixing the kettle and teapot.

Stan watched him, focusing on his breathing.

Why had he thought this was a good idea? Why?

Fiddleford sat across from him again.

“So, um … I’m not really the best when it comes to this kind of thing, but I’m gonna try,” Fiddleford said.

Stan just stared at him, not sure where this was going.

“How … does it make you feel? ‘Cause I … can’t imagine it at all.”

Stan took a deep breath. How _did_ it make him feel?

“Like a toy,” Stan said. Meant to be played with and discarded when broken. “And … Pa always talked about how Ford and I weren’t good enough, and after it happened with Crampelter, every time I tried to have a relationship with anybody, it just … fell apart and reinforced that feeling of being … just a worthless toy.”

Fiddleford got up to handle the kettle before it whistled, but he moved faster than before and brought the teapot and cups over to the table.

“Stanley Pines, yer not worthless, and yer certainly no one’s toy. And I know that me saying that isn’t going to magically make you feel differently. But if there’s anything I can do to help you not feel that way, doggone I’ll do it.”

Stan offered a smile, then shrugged.

“I … I kinda feel a little better just talkin’ about it.”

“Then I’m certainly here to listen.”

Stan played with the handle to the teacup for a bit.

“When Jimmy came around, there … there was some fun to it, y’know? Even when it was a shitty situation, it was still … fun the rest of the time.”

Stan remembered drinking in bars and racing other bikers and getting into fights and he and Jimmy having each other’s backs. He remembered burger joints and pulling small crime jobs - petty theft, that kind of thing. The gang really didn’t get mixed up in heavier stuff outside of theft and his and Jimmy’s domestic issues until Spitfire had had his … incident. He remembered games of pool and poker, and it was the days pre-prostitution, and he had always looked on those days fondly, even if they had been full of bruises and the occasional broken bone. It had been pre-prison, pre-prostituion, pre-Colombia (though some of Colombia was actually pretty cool), and it had made life with Jimmy seem plenty perfect.

“Compared to everything that happened to me after Jimmy never came back for me when I first went to prison, it looked plenty perfect. He never … did what Crampelter did or what Rico did.” Stan paused. “Though without Rico, I’d be dead. Very, very dead.” Another pause. “Though sometimes he made it very clear that if I didn’t do what he wanted me to, he’d kill me instead. The literal only reason I got rid of him was because I faked my own death so I could pretend to be Stanford and pay his mortgage while trying to get the portal working. I found out he actually passed away a few years back while we were traveling. The relief I felt, holy shit.”

Stan sighed, then made eye contact - real eye contact - with Fiddleford for the first time in this conversation.

“It’s just - for as long as I can remember, the people I’ve chosen to hang around and put effort into making happy - outside of family - haven’t exactly been good people, and in some ways, I’m not that good either, but … .”

“What about Spitfire?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan laughed a bit.

“Spitfire’s family. He’s like a little brother to me.”

Fiddleford smiled at that.

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

Stan’s smile lingered, and he drank some of the tea.

“Well, I’m no expert or anything, but it just sounds like you just need to hang around better people,” Fiddleford said. “It’s hard to think good about yourself if you’re around people who don’t treat you right. And I’m truly sorry that all those bad things happened to you. We’ll just have to make sure the rest of your years are full of good things.”

Stan felt himself blushing, and that in and of itself embarrassed him and made him blush more. He quickly drank more tea.

“Thanks. Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford smiled at him.

“Aw, don’t mention it. Anything for a friend.”

Stan’s ears were practically burning.

When Stan ended up going back to bed, he couldn’t sleep for an entirely different reason.

His eyes widened when he realized why.

“Oh no,” Stan said.


	32. Chapter 32

The TV volume was louder than anyone had been used to it being, and the reason for it was unknown for now.

But the news report played, and no one had it in them to turn the volume down.

“Over the past few weeks, we’ve been keeping tabs on the mysterious gatherings and the resulting brawls that have been occurring across the nation. Only one common factor seems to be present in these gatherings, and that is a single biker. The identity of the biker has been determined to be one Jimmy Snakes. An individual the residents of Gravity Falls are familiar with,” Shandra said, eyes on the camera.

“I don’t know much about the fella,” Bud Gleeful told a camera on location at his car shop. “I just know he was here when all that, y’know, spooky stuff happened at the end of last summer. You should ask the Pines family about it, they’d know more than anybody else.”

The news switched to a different clip.

“Don’t you dare ask the Pines family! If you do, I’ll sue! He’s just a violent jerk who better not show his face back here ever again!” Pacifica said, looking rather serious about her threat to sue. If anyone had the power to sue at the age of fourteen, it would be Pacifica. “All he ever did was hurt people and ride that stupid bike of his.”

Then the clip switched to Ghost Eyes. Ghost Eyes cleared his throat before speaking.

“He’s a pyromaniac of the, ah, spooky variety if you catch my drift. Just about as mean as a cobra, I’ll tell ya that much. Don’t know much about him outside of him being one tough mother-”

And the clip cut out, going back to Shandra.

“It should be noted that Jimmy Snakes’ destination appears to be somewhere along the Pacific. It is unclear if he is planning on returning to Gravity Falls or elsewhere. But the last town he was seen in was Flagstaff, Arizona. The number of injured persons and people falling into unexplained comas is on the rise with each instance. While we do not know for sure that he will return, the town of Gravity Falls should still prepare itself for what may be coming. I’m Shandra Jiminez, and this is -”

Spitfire turned the television off. Ford turned his head to see that Spitfire had had the remote the entire time.

Ford had been letting his guard down around Spitfire, but it came up rather suddenly once again. His brain also reminded him of the punishment he was on. No experiments. No research until the end of the summer. There was no immediate thought in his brain about how he could assure himself that Spitfire wasn’t … a liability.

He was not going to let anything hurt Stan again, especially not Jimmy Snakes. And if Spitfire was still in contact with Jimmy….

It was frustrating.

But quick thinking led Ford to an alternative. It wasn’t perfect, but…..

Now it would just be a matter of getting it without anyone being suspicious. And putting it in place without getting caught.

Did he still have it hidden away in his wallet, just in case?

“Should we be worried about that?” Mabel asked, turning her head to look over at her grunkles.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to any of you,” Ford assured her without hesitation.

Stan, however, was oddly silent. Ford looked over at Stan and frowned.

Stan stood there, staring at the now dark TV, his eyes unfocused.

“Stan?”

No response.

“Stan. Stanley. Stanley!”

Stan gave a very sudden flinch and screwed his eyes shut, refusing to open them. Ford instantly felt bad for shouting.

“Stanley?” Ford asked, voice much softer.

Stan’s hands were balled into fists, but his hands were shaking, and the shaking was starting to crawl up to his shoulders. He still refused to open his eyes, as though waiting for something bad.

Fiddleford gently touched Stan’s arm, and that made Stan stiffen.

“It’s all right, Stanley. All who’s here is family and we care about you and won’t let anything bad happen. You’re safe. Here in my home, you’re safe,” Fiddleford said.

Stan took a few deep breaths, then opened his eyes.

“I’m okay,” Stan said, but Ford wasn’t sure he believed him. “Really, I’m okay.”

Stan lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, then he looked down at Fiddleford’s hand on his arm.

Stan flushed red and avoided making eye contact with anyone. Fiddleford seemed to realize his hand was still on Stan’s arm and took it back, flushing as well.

Ford was too concerned with the prospect of Jimmy returning and Spitfire having something to do with it that he didn’t even notice his matchmaking goal was happening right under his nose.

The first person to break the awkward silence was Dipper when the phone rang.

“Hello? Hey, Gideon. Yeah, I’ll meet you there. Bye.”

Dipper then hung up.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Dipper said, grabbing his jacket and then heading for the door.

“Be careful,” Stan called after him, voice sounding a little odd.

“I will!”

And then he was gone.

“Grunkle Stan, are you sure you’re okay?” Mabel asked.

“Yeah, sweetie, really. I’m fine.”

“Well … okay. Why don’t you old guys have a fun day, just the four of you? Janice and I can entertain ourselves for a while.”

“I dunno -” Spitfire started, but Janice took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips.

“We’re teenagers, Daddy. We can handle ourselves for a few hours. Go have some man fun.”

Mabel and Janice didn’t really give any of them a choice in the matter. Before any of them knew it, they were being shoved into the entry way, and Mabel was grabbing their wallets and shoving them into their hands.

“This isn’t one big plan to do something you’re gonna get in trouble for, is it?” Stan asked, looking at them suspiciously.

“Us? Get in trouble? That’s crazy talk!” Mabel insisted.

Stan’s eyebrow was still permanently raised, but only Spitfire was fighting this.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” Spitfire asked.

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be with Mabel.”

“You’ll call if anything changes?”

“Yes, Daddy. Go have fun.”

Spitfire gave his daughter a hug first.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

Janice smiled and waved them goodbye as Mabel pushed them out the door and closed it behind them.

“So what’re we gonna do?”

“First, we’re gonna call Candy and Grenda. Then we’re gonna go shopping. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

As the men wandered around town, talking among themselves as to what they were going to do, Ford checked his wallet to see if it was in there. Ford smirked as he found it. Jackpot. Now all he needed to do was somehow get a hold of Spitfire’s phone.

It ended up being surprisingly easy as they wandered around the shops, Fiddleford and Spitfire deciding that they did indeed need a few things for their respective machinery - Fiddleford his robots and Spitfire his bike. Stan and Spitfire had been far too into their conversation about mechanic upkeep to notice that Ford had slipped his hand into Spitfire’s pocket and taken his phone.

After borrowing a couple of tools on the shelf and hiding away between two aisles, Ford was able to put the device into the phone, then he put it back together. It thankfully wasn’t one of those Apple phones that were more difficult to take apart, but one of those cheaper, old phones that were easy to take the battery and SIM card out of.

In other words, incredibly easy for someone like Ford to tamper with.

Ford then just had to put it back without anyone noticing. He didn’t have an opportunity to do so, however, until after they left the store and Spitfire put his hand into his pocket that the phone was supposed to be in.

The man took a moment to realize that it wasn’t in that pocket. Ford could see the hints of panic in Spitfire’s face, but he otherwise remained calm as he checked his other jacket pocket. Then his pant pockets, making sure he hadn’t just forgotten where he had put it.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Fiddleford asked.

“My phone’s gone,” Spitfire said, checking and re-checking his pockets. “I thought it was in my right jacket pocket but -”

“Maybe it fell out?” Fiddleford asked.

“Or someone pilfered it,” Stan said. “C’mon.”

They went back into the store to report the phone missing, but Ford hung back just long enough to take it back out of his own pocket and place it on the ground.

“Wait, Spitfire, is this it?” Ford said, picking up the phone again and holding it up, his face schooled to pretend that he was only just realizing that it was there on the floor.

“Yeah! Thanks, Ford.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ford said, handing it back to Spitfire.

The incident passed without anyone even giving Ford a suspicious look, and Ford simply sighed in relief when the other three had gotten further ahead than him.

The store that Mabel took Janice, Candy, and Grenda to was the party store, and Janice was the main reason any of the girls didn’t set their hearts too set on an item that just wasn’t in their budget.

“But I have Grunkle Ford’s credit card!” Mabel said, waving it around.

“Did you ask for it?” Janice asked.

“Well, no, but he wouldn’t mind!”

“We should use our own money, since we didn’t ask.”

That meant they had to work with thirty dollars and seventy-five cents, and Mabel was trying to convince Janice to budge a little bit so they could use the credit card to cover the remaining cost for a piñata in addition to all the glitter, construction paper, streamers, and package of balloons.

“The piñata doesn’t come with its own candy, so we’d have to buy that too, and then we’d be very over budget.”

“But it’ll be fun!”

“But it’s not your credit card!”

“Grunkle Ford won’t mind! Really!”

Janice had her arms crossed and was biting her lower lip.

“C’mon, it’s for your dad and my grunkles and McGucket. It’ll help cheer them up, and Grunkle Ford really, really won’t mind the credit card getting used. He uses it all the time! And it’s technically McGucket’s money, and he really, really wouldn’t mind! He’s got plenty of it.”

Janice, however, stood her ground and shook her head.

“Why don’t we just call Pacifica and see if she’d like to help out?” Candy suggested. “I think she’d like to party, too, and she has money.”

“Yeah! Let’s call up Pacifica!” Grenda said.

“Oh! Yeah! Pacifica loves parties just as much as we do!” Mabel said, already pulling her phone out and dialing Pacifica’s number.

Janice continued to stand awkwardly on the side, feeling uncomfortable.

Soon, Pacifica was at the store, slipping her shades off as she walked over.

“So what’s this about a party emergency?” Pacifica asked.

“We’re throwing a party to cheer the adults up!” Mabel said. “They were really bummed out by the news report about Jimmy, so we shooed them out to have fun while we planned a surprise party! I was gonna use Grunkle Ford’s card to pay for it -”

“But Janice has been a stick in the mud about that plan,” Grenda said. “So we’ve had to use our allowance money instead -”

“But we don’t have enough for all the things we want,” Candy finished.

Janice hung her head, her face burning.

Pacifica sighed.

“It must be so hard to be poor like you,” Pacifica said. “That’s really all you can get with the cash you have?”

She pointed at what they had in the cart.

“Minus the piñata,” Grenda said.

Pacifica rolled her eyes.

“All right, I’ll rescue your party,” Pacifica said. “But did you ask for the credit card before you took it?”

Mabel shook her head.

“Then I’m honestly with Janice on this one. I know your uncle’s cool and all, but being in someone’s debt when money’s concerned is not a place you want to be in. Looks like I’ll have to teach you dorks about how money works, too.”

“I know how money works,” Mabel protested, but Pacifica ignored her.

“C’mon, let’s go get a helium tank while we’re at it,” Pacifica said, taking charge of the cart.

While Mabel, Grenda, and Candy grabbed what else they’d need now that they had Pacifica paying for it, Pacifica and Janice hung back with the cart. Pacifica looked over at Janice.

“Hey, you okay?” Pacifica asked.

“I didn’t want to be a party-pooper, but….” Janice said.

“Hey, it’s perfectly understandable. You just didn’t want them to get into trouble. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Pacifica said.

Janice nodded, but she didn’t look comforted by that fact.

“It’s just … Mabel and Dipper are my only friends… .” Janice admitted.

Pacifica put a hand on Janice’s shoulder. Janice looked up at her.

“I’ll be your friend,” Pacifica said.

Janice finally smiled a little bit.

“LOOK WHAT I FOUND!” Mabel shouted, carrying a massive, fancy pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey billboard.

“No,” Pacifica said deadpan.

“Awww, c’mon, Pacifica!”

“Is this party for you or for your grunkles?”

“Everybody!”

Pacifica sighed.

In the end, they got plenty of materials for a party and also picked up cake mix and icing from the grocery store before heading back to the mansion to put up the decorations and bake the cake.

The men soon came back to the mansion, but not before the girls managed to get done with decorating. When they opened the front door, Mabel shot the confetti canon.

“SURPRISE! IT’S PARTY TIME!”

It startled all four of them, but soon they were laughing along with the girls.

The party went on for a while by the time Dipper returned. The sound of the door opening and slamming suddenly startled all of them, and Stan and Ford rushed into the hall, Mabel right behind them.

Gideon was breathing heavily and leaning against the door. Dipper was peering out the window to look outside.

“I think we lost it,” Dipper said.

Both of them had leaves in their hair and specks of dirt on their faces and scratches here at there.

Gideon sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness! Was this every day of your summer last year?”

“Pretty much!” Dipper said, grinning now.

He turned around.

“Hey, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, Mabel! What’s all the party stuff for?”

“For fun,” Mabel said, her smile becoming a little strained. 

“Cool,” Dipper said. “Can … Can Gideon join in?”

Mabel hesitated. Gideon stood there awkwardly for a bit, fiddling with his thumbs and keeping his eyes down. Dipper, however, was giving him that “please please please” look he sometimes gave her, much like the “please please please” look she gave both him and Stan.

Mabel sighed.

“Sure. Okay. He can join.”

Gideon’s face brightened up.

“Thanks, Mabel!” Dipper said, giving her a quick hug.

“Thank you, Mabel,” Gideon said, smiling at her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mabel said, just wanting this to blow over.

Reason said that the scrapes and scratches were from running around in the woods and getting mixed up with supernatural creatures, but it still made her feel uncomfortable. She remembered Dipper getting roughed up by Gideon and having quite a few bruises when it was _her_ dating Gideon instead.

She wasn’t going to let Gideon ruin this for her, though. Or for anybody else.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threats of physical violence are in this chapter, but no physical violence actually takes place.

Despite Gideon being over for the party going over well, Dipper continued to spend more and more time away from the family to run off with Gideon.

Gideon had been nice to Janice and Candy and Grenda, and Mabel had started to slowly get over her nervousness about him dating Dipper. He did seem to have changed some….

But then Dipper started leaving early and coming home late, and Mabel was missing Dipper. She didn’t see him nearly as much this week.

She did her best to keep busy, mostly hanging out with Janice. It was fun having make-overs with her and doing each other’s hair.

But she started to miss Dipper’s complaints and suggestions about things they could do. She missed him going on and on about a new conspiracy theory or a mystery to solve.

Janice played with the hair brush for a moment. They had been trying out different braids for the past hour.

“Mabel? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Mabel said, glad for a distraction from worrying about Dipper.

Janice took her time, eyes on the hair brush and fingers brushing against the bristles.

“Well, I know you’re cool with my dad being gay and your grunkle being bi, and I know your problem with Gideon isn’t that he and Dipper are both boys, but … what about girls?”

“What’d’ya mean?” Mabel asked.

“I mean… . how do you feel about … about girls who like girls?”

Mabel turned her head around to look at her better.

“They’re cool, too,” Mabel said, smiling at her. “Girls who like boys or girls or both are all cool and great!”

“R-really?”

“Yeah!”

Janice smiled, but kept her head down. Mabel turned around fully and contorted her body so she could still make eye contact with Janice.

“All girls are beautiful and great, unless they’re mean, then they’re not so great, but they can still be pretty.”

“Do … do you think you’d ever want to date a girl? I know you really like boys, but….”

“I haven’t ever thought about it,” Mabel said truthfully. “I could give it a try, I think.”

She didn’t have any objections to it. She gave it a quick thinking, and she decided that at the very least, she liked the idea of holding hands and maybe kissing and cuddling with girls. Yes, that sounded nice.

“What about you?” Mabel asked.

Janice blushed, and she looked to the side, away from Mabel and her hair brush.

“I … I know I really like girls. Boys make me nervous in the not-good way, and I really can’t see myself holding hands with one or going on a date with one,” Janice admitted. “But … girls are really nice.”

Mabel smiled at her.

“That’s great, Janice. Thank you for telling me.”

Mabel readjusted herself, then pulled Janice into a hug, and Janice hugged her back. Janice held her tighter than she ever had before. Mabel liked the enthusiasm.

“Ooooh, maybe we could set you up with Pacifica!” Mabel said.

Janice’s shoulders slumped a little. Mabel was pretty sure what she heard was a laugh.

While the girls were coming closer together, Gideon was noticing that something seemed … off about Dipper since the week started.

Dates would start out fine, but then something would happen and … well, it was perhaps easier to put it into list form.

Just this week, at the end of nearly every date, they had  


  * escaped the Gremloblin.   

  * managed to anger some biker bar patrons.   

  * narrowly avoided getting caught breaking Gideon’s parole via fighting some punks at the playground.
  * challenged teenagers to a race, the teenagers with their car and Dipper with his bike (and Gideon holding on for dear life).



Both of them had narrowly avoided getting into serious trouble, and Dipper had more than a few scrapes and bruises. But he covered them easily with his jacket and biker gloves.

It was fun, but Gideon was starting to wonder about it.

Gideon was trying out another fashion style today. Dipper raised an eyebrow hard.

“Gotta be honest, hip hop thug isn’t your look,” Dipper said bluntly. “Can you even walk in those?”

He pointed to Gideon’s pants.

“Not really,” Gideon admitted. “It’s more like I’m waddlin’, and I keep having to grab at my pants to keep them up.”

“Grunkle Stan says it’s prison prostitute pants,” Dipper said bluntly.

“Ghost Eyes said the same thing.”

Gideon pulled his pants up after that, tightening the belt.

“I like the hat, though,” Gideon said. “The off-center positioning gives off a carefree attitude, I think.”

“Or the impression you’re trying too hard,” Dipper said, but he was smiling. “So, what did you have planned today?”

“Well, I -” Gideon started, but then a sudden wind took the hat right off of Gideon’s head, and it whisked into the air. “My hat!”

“And that’s one reason to keep it on your head properly,” Dipper said.

The hat ended up hooking itself onto a power line pole.

“Oh dear,” Gideon said. “Well, I guess I -”

And then Dipper started climbing a wall.

“Hey, wait! Dipper!”

Gideon watched, scared for him, as Dipper reached a roof and started to head over to the pole, examining it for the best way to get from the roof to the pole.

“I’ll buy another one! Dipper Pines, get down here this instant!”

With the use of his jacket, Dipper managed to climb the pole like he was Wendy flipping Corduroy. He also ignored the sign that warned to not touch the pole unless you were an authorized individual, and Gideon started imagining all sorts of horrible things to happen.

“Dipper! DIPPER! GET BACK DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

His temper was rising because he was worried. This was unnecessary and stupid, and he could get himself seriously hurt!

Dipper grabbed the hat, then, of all the reckless things he could’ve done, jumped down from the pole onto the roof of the building he had climbed up to. He heard an “ow!”, but then saw Dipper make his way down the wall of the building.

Gideon hurried over to him and grabbed the hat from him, smashing it back onto his head, not giving a second thought to his hair like he normally would have.

“Have you completely lost your mind!?”

“What? I got it back,” Dipper said, crossing his arms.

“You could’ve gotten hurt or worse! Don’t you ever do that again!”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Dipper retorted.

“Excuse me!?”

“You heard me.”

Gideon grabbed Dipper’s arms tightly, forgetting his own strength in his worry and anger.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, and that’s all you have to say about it!?”

He shook Dipper a bit roughly, but Dipper’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m fine, and you got it back, what more do you want? Let go!”

Dipper then uncrossed his arms and pushed Gideon off of him.

Gideon didn’t really remember what happened next, but the evidence certainly told him what had happened.

All he had seen when shoved was red, and the next moment, he found himself pinning Dipper to the wall behind him, one hand fisting Dipper’s shirt and the other hand pulled back.

He immediately let go of Dipper when he realized what he was doing. He stepped away from him, arms falling to his sides.

Dipper was breathing heavy, and for a moment Gideon swore he could heard Dipper’s heartbeat, but then he realized it was his own in his ear.

“I - I’m sorry - !” Gideon said, continuing to back up.

“W-wait - !” Dipper called out.

Gideon almost didn’t listen to him, but Dipper ran to him and grabbed his hand and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. A car sped passed, not seeming to realize it had been just a few seconds away from actually hitting Gideon.

“I - I should go home,” Gideon said, his brain not really processing the thing with the car because it was too stuck on what he had almost done to Dipper.

He was supposed to be his boyfriend….

“D-do you want me to go with you?” Dipper asked.

“I - I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Gideon said. “I - I need to make a call or two….”

His therapist. He definitely needed to call his therapist.

“There’s a pay phone,” Dipper offered, gesturing to one further down the sidewalk.

“N-no, I’ll do it at home. I - I’m sorry, I … .”

Gideon turned away from Dipper and almost ran from him. Dipper watched him go, his heart beating too fast.

Dipper didn’t go home until much, much later.

“Hey, Dipper!”

“Hey, kiddo - what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Dipper lied.

No one believed him, but they let him have his space for now. It was nine at night.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I didn't really mention it earlier, but since I hate, hate, HATE how Wendy switched hats with Dipper, that never happened in this fic/AU, so that's why Dipper still has his pine tree hat.

Dipper stayed at the mansion after that day, and he still wasn’t talking about what had happened or why he had come home in such a bad mood. He wasn’t really talking period, and no one was really sure if he had gone nonverbal or just didn’t feel like talking. The occasional response cleared up the matter a little bit, but it didn’t do much to ease their concerns.

If they so much as asked about Gideon, he either changed the subject, created some sort of distraction from the topic, or just got up and left.

Stan was holding off on talking to him for now, knowing how hard it was to talk about things that were bothering you sometimes, but on the third day, Stan went to find Dipper in his room and sat on the edge of the bed. Dipper sat in the bed, wearing his usual T-shirt and shorts and pine tree hat, reading a book.

“Hey, kiddo,” Stan said.

“Hey,” Dipper said softly.

“So, uh, what’s been going on?”

Dipper was quiet a moment, then he closed the book and pulled the brim of the hat further down on his forehead, covering his eyes.

“… I’ve been trying to call Gideon back, but he hasn’t been answering.”

“Oh. Uh, do you know why?”

“… Yeah.”

Stan waited, but Dipper didn’t volunteer the information.

“Is it something to be worried about?” Stan asked.

“… He said something about needing to talk to his therapist….”

Stan’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Talk to ‘em about what?”

Stan didn’t like the mental health industry, but in Gideon’s case, whatever made him safe for the kids to be around was fine by him. If he ever heard wind of any of those crack pots hurting Gideon, though, he was gonna give ‘em hell. Gideon was a weird, sometimes dangerous kid, but he was still a kid, and no one deserved the treatment that Stan was familiar from the mental institution days.

Dipper was quiet for a long time, his hands brushing the spine of the book over and over.

“Gideon got mad at me,” Dipper admitted.

Stan tensed at hearing that, but he kept his tone calm for now.

“What was he mad about?”

“… I did something stupid.”

“Which was … ?”

“I climbed onto a roof, then up a power line to get his stupid hat that the wind had taken off and up on the pole.”

“Dipper, you could’ve been really hurt,” Stan said. “Electrocution isn’t fun.”

“I know…. He got mad ‘cause he had been worried, but … .”

Stan waited for Dipper to tell him the rest.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Dipper clarified, “but he kinda scared both of us.”

Stan accepted that answer, but it didn’t tell him much.

“What happened then?”

“He … he got all freaked out and said he had to leave and make a call. We were on the sidewalk and he had backed too far away from me, and I had to grab him before he got hit by a car.”

“Yeesh.”

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Dipper said.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been climbing buildings, but it’s not your fault Gideon lost it temporarily. He’s been working on it, but emotion regulation isn’t really something he’s gonna magically get over in a year. He’s bound to have some relapses, and those have the potential to be scary, ‘cause sometimes he can be a scary kid. It’s up to you if you want to deal with that, but just the fact that he’s willing to try to be better and doesn’t actually want to hurt you does mean a lot.”

Dipper finally looked at Stan, and Stan gave him a comforting smile.

“Your safety is always going to be the most important thing to me, but you know that. You know what I’m gonna say regarding you dating Gideon.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m not your dad or your mom. I can’t really stop you, and knowing you, you’d just find a way around me if you really wanted to do it. So I’m not gonna forbid it or anything, but you have to promise to actually talk to me or Ford about it if something goes wrong. I don’t want you moping for days and hurting without anyone knowing why.”

“Okay, Grunkle Stan.”

“For what it’s worth, I do kinda hope he gets better and that things work out.”

Dipper smiled at him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

Stan then gave Dipper a tight hug, which Dipper returned, then got up.

“Lunch’ll be ready in about thirty minutes, by the way.”

“I’ll be down,” Dipper said.

Stan went down to the kitchen to jump into helping, but as he entered the room, his eyes were drawn to a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table.

“Where’d that come from?” Stan asked.

Ford was messing with the stove, then looked over his shoulder.

“Oh! That. I don’t know. It was just sitting there when I came in here,” Ford said.

Stan went over to the table, then noticed the note. It read: “STAN” in cursive letters.

He took the note, then unfolded it and read the insides.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was a love note and signed as from Fiddleford, but then he took a moment to analyze the writing.

“Ford.”

“Yes?”

“This is your handwriting.”

The ladle clanged against the side of the pot. Ford turned his head and gave Stanley a sheepish look.

“That obvious?” Ford asked.

“Yes,” Stan said, deadpan. “Did you seriously spend money on this?”

“No, actually. They were sitting there, but I … felt like they would be put to better use this way.”

“Why would you think that? Why are you even trying to set me up with Fid-?” And then it clicked in his head. “Is that why you killed the raccoon!?”

“Shhhhh!” Ford urged, putting his finger to his mouth. “He doesn’t know about that part!”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ford!?”

“You two would be such a cute couple!”

“Holy fucking Moses, what is wrong with you!?”

“I don’t know, okay!? It seemed like a good idea at the time, I hadn’t taken into account just how upset Fiddleford would be over her death, and I am genuinely sorry for that, I’m sorry I’m an asshole, but you two would be very good together! He knows how to comfort you and is rich and can take care of you in ways the kids and I can’t!”

“I’m not an invalid, Stanford!”

“I know that!”

Stan noticed a piece of paper sticking out of Ford’s pocket, and he lunged over to grab it. They fought over it for a moment, but Stan got it out of Ford’s possession and read it.

It was obviously not Spitfire’s handwriting, but the note was claiming to be from Spitfire. However, it was painfully obvious it was Mabel’s.

“Are you fucking -”

Stan then just sighed.

“Where did Mabel even get the money for flowers to pretend to be from Spitfire after that party she threw?”

“Mabel?” Ford asked.

“It’s her handwriting, dummy.”

“Oh.”

Ford blushed. Stan rolled his eyes.

At that moment, Mabel, Janice, and Spitfire entered the kitchen.

“Hi, Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan! How’s the soup coming?”

“Mabel, just what are you up to?”

“Up to? Nothing, I - ooooh! Look! Pretty flowers! I wonder where - ?”

“Mabel, I know you bought them and wrote the love note,” Stan said, holding it up.

Mabel then pouted.

“Don’t you have anything better to do that match-make old men?” Stan asked.

“You and Spitfire would be adorable!” Mabel insisted.

“Mabel, you heard Daddy, Mr. Pines doesn’t like Daddy like that,” Janice said.

Spitfire was blushed rapidly, and he quickly ducked out of the room to spare himself the embarrassment.

“I think I, uh, left my bike turned on. Yes. I’ll go - fix that.” And out of the room he went.

Ford’s eyes widened. So Spitfire wasn’t a threat to - ? Oh. _Oh._ Somehow, Ford felt worse about this than he had about killing Beatrice. He wasn’t going to tell anybody that, though.

“Just when did you buy flowers, anyway? Haven’t you been home all day?” Stan asked.

Mabel made a bit of a face.

“Well, I didn’t really buy them -”

“Okay, when did you steal them?”

“I didn’t steal them, either. They were delivered to the front door with a note, and I felt they’d be put to better use this way.”

Stan gave Ford a look, and Ford looked a little sheepish.

“Okay, who were they originally from then?” Stan asked.

Dipper then appeared in the doorway, but he didn’t bring his presence to be known just yet. He realized he had stepped on something, then bent down to pick it up. He read it as Mabel, in the dark about Dipper being right behind her, explained.

“They’re actually from Gideon to Dipper, and it said it’s an apology for almost hitting him, but he admitted to trying to hit Dipper! They’re supposed to be dating, that’s not cool! So I decided to re-purpose them for a good cause.”

“They’re from Gideon?” Dipper spoke up.

“Gideon did what?!” Ford reacted. Stan put a hand on Ford’s shoulder.

“Easy, Ford.”

“Dipper! When’d you get there?” Mabel panicked.

Dipper stepped further into the kitchen to get a better look at the flower bouquet.

“Where’s the note?” Dipper asked, still holding onto the little card he had found on the floor.

“In - in the trash….” Mabel admitted.

“This one?” Dipper asked, pointing to the kitchen trash can.

“Yeah….”

Dipper fished around in it for a moment, then pulled the note out. Stan meanwhile was whispering what Dipper had told him just a little while ago to Ford.

“But Stan -” Ford protested.

“Awww,” Dipper said, cutting Ford off.

“What’s it say?” Janice asked.

Dipper handed Janice the note. She read it aloud.

“Dear, Dipper, there are not enough words to tell you how sorry I am for threatening to hit you the other day. There was no excuse for it, no matter how worried I was. I’m working doubly hard with my therapist to get myself under better control. I was talking to him, though, about you and concerns I was having about behavior I was noticing, and he said he’d be willing to talk to you too. He says he’s a friend of yours, and is willing to not charge you. You just have a big habit of throwing yourself into dangerous situations, and it seemed to be a lot all at once this week. I’m worried about you, though my therapist and I agreed that for now, it might be best to take a break. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk. I love you, Gideon.”

Janice couldn’t help but coo a little bit over it as well. Mabel was frowning.

“Okay, maybe I … maybe I only read the first sentence,” Mabel admitted.

Dipper was laughing a bit.

“How did Multibear even get approved to be a therapist?” Dipper asked.

“Huh?”

Dipper showed them the card he had found on the ground.

“Multibear is Gideon’s therapist.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“How?” Ford and Stan asked.

Dipper shrugged.

“If it’s Multibear, I guess talking things out with him wouldn’t be so bad,” Dipper said. “And I kinda get what Gideon’s getting at.” Then an idea hit Dipper. “Hey, you could see Multibear too, Grunkle Stan!”

“Uh, I dunno,” Stan said.

“He’s really nice.”

“I don’t do therapy,” Stan said.

A giant explosion from the basement interrupted them. They all ran to the basement door. 

“Fiddleford!?” Ford yelled down there.

There was some coughing.

“I’m okay!” Fiddleford yelled up the stairs. “I, uh, could use a little help, though!”

“Kids, go handle the soup on the stove. Coming, Fiddleford!” Ford shouted down as Stan already headed down the stairs. Ford followed right behind.

Eventually, all of them sat down for lunch, Fiddleford covered in black dust and machine oil but otherwise perfectly fine.

“My! What pretty flowers! Who’re they for?” Fiddleford asked.

Dipper was blushing and smiling, but didn’t volunteer the information. “Just something to brighten up the day,” Stan said, covering for him.


	35. Chapter 35

Ford’s punishment of “no science” was really starting to get to him.

“It’s not technically research, it’s just building a little tiny thing to improve the remote - !”

“Nope. Not a chance.”

“Stanley, please!”

“A punishment’s a punishment. Summer ain’t over, so not sci-fi gadgets or research or science mumbo-jumbo that no one else aside from Dipper and Fiddleford can understand.”

Ford slumped into the chair, and Stan kept the remote in his own hand. Ford’s screwdriver was held limply in his left hand.

“My brain is turning to mush,” Ford whined.

“Not my problem.”

Ford groaned.

For some reason, the thing with Gideon had gotten Dipper talking to Ford again, and they had done a game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons since then, but currently Dipper was off with Mabel and Janice, doing something with Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica.

In short, Ford was bored. And something work-related had come up with Fiddleford, so he wasn’t even there.

And Earth documentaries were so … behind, scientifically speaking, compared to the other dimensions Ford had been to, so it just wasn’t the same.

The front door opened, and Ford perked up, hoping it was Fiddleford, but it was just Spitfire who came into view from the living room archway. Ford sunk back into the chair.

“Hey, Spitfire.”

“Hey, Stan.”

“How you doin’?”

“I’m all right. The bike needs a bit of a tune-up. Might need to get another one sooner rather than later.”

“There’s a motorbike shop downtown. We could all go together. Ford here is dying of boredom.”

“Shouldn’t one of us be here for when the kids get back?” Ford asked.

“Guess you’re right. You two can go, then,” Stan said. “Since you’re bored and all.”

Ford grumbled a little, but he knew now that he just wouldn’t be allowed to sit here and mope, not after having attempted to alter the remote.

If he was going to be a better person, he had to really, really try. Show that he was making an effort to not be a mad scientist hellbent on discovering new information at the cost of other people’s feelings and lives.

Gosh, when he put it that way, he really did sound like a monster.

Ford ended up riding on the back of Spitfire’s bike for the second time now, and they took it slow into down. Ford had to hold onto Spitfire as they went, and he didn’t really think about it until they had parked and taken their helmets off.

“Awww, isn’t it romantic for two people riding a motorcycle together?” was an off-hand comment Ford heard.

He tensed up, then whirled around, trying to find out who said that, but to no avail.

Spitfire snorted.

“Ignore it if it bothers you. It’s really the only safe way to do it without a side car,” Spitfire said. “I’d ride the back of Jimmy’s back all the time back in the day, and it was never like that between him and me.”

Ford wasn’t sure if he was comforted by that or not, but he followed Spitfire into the shop.

“So what’d you do?” Spitfire asked.

“Do?”

“It’s no secret you don’t like me, so you must’ve done something,” Spitfire said, not looking offended or annoyed. Amused was probably the right word for the look on Spitfire’s face.

Ford blushed.

“I attempted to break my punishment on doing science by trying to improve the TV remote.”

Spitfire laughed a bit.

“Rather harmless in context,” Spitfire said.

“I know, but a deal was a deal,” Ford said. “I can just feel my brain turning to mush without it being used much.”

Ford was also hesitant a moment, then said, “And it’s … not that I don’t like you.”

Spitfire paused his browsing, then looked over at Ford. Ford was starting to flush under the scrutiny.

“It’s … well, it’s … . I had made an assumption about you, and I’ve recently learned it was a wrong assumption. I still don’t … like the connection with Jimmy that you still seem to have, I still feel like it puts my family in potential danger, but … .”

“But you thought there might be something between me and Stan,” Spitfire finished for him.

Ford was now a light shade of pink across the face.

“Yes. And in combination with you still being in touch with Jimmy, that just didn’t sit right with me. But I should’ve just -”

“Asked?”

Ford’s face turned a darker color.

“Yes.”

Spitfire gave him a teasing smirk.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it. Stan firmly thinks of me as a little brother figure, and I’ve understood that for a long time now.”

“Oh. Well. Good.”

Ford felt super awkward, and he knew Spitfire probably felt that way too, and everything was … awkward.

He wished he was with Fiddleford, doing whatever it was he was doing instead.

“So, um, what - what bike were you thinking about?” Ford asked, hoping to make things less awkward.

“If I tell you, are you going to lecture me on gasoline use again?” Spitfire asked, referring to an argument they had had very, very early on in the summer.

Ford pouted.

“Maybe.”

Spitfire laughed.

They did indeed have the gasoline use/environmental awareness argument again - Ford believing that every individual had the power to alter the carbon footprint on the Earth while Spitfire firmly believed that the government and big corporations were the main culprits and that individual decisions didn’t mean squat in the big picture, so what did it matter if he road a particular type of bike that was more powerful but used more gas. They hardly noticed people inching away from them as they bickered.

But it didn’t have the same animosity as it had before, and by the time they left the store with some items for Spitfire’s current bike and a catalogue for continued perusing, they were actually laughing and joking around with each other.

Stan expected the two men to be back a lot sooner than when they did show back up.

Fiddleford ended up returning before they did, and Stan raised an eyebrow as he heard the other man sigh in a defeated manner.

Stan got up and went to see what was the matter.

“Hey, you okay?” Stan asked.

Fiddleford loosened the tie around his neck.

“Not really. My refusal to build something for the government didn’t exactly go over well…. I stood my ground on the issue, but….”

Stan didn’t even want to know what Fiddleford would refuse to build for the government. He had built killer death robots and been perfectly fine with leasing them to the government.

“Do ya wanna talk about it or just forget about it?”

“Forgettin’ sounds nice.”

“Lemme call up Ford and Spitfire. I know a good place to unwind.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did finally decide that Ford is autistic in this fic series, but that's really only important if you care about where Dipper got his autism from. Ford isn't really gonna realize that about himself or seek out any diagnosis and isn't interested in self-diagnosing himself with it, so it's not exactly plot relevant, especially at this point in the story. But that is why he's face-blind. 
> 
> Ford got it from Filbrick's side of the family, though where on that side is a mystery. Whereas Stan's pathological lying and kleptomania is from Ma Pines's side. 
> 
> Also, I have mentioned Spitfire's ethnicity before this chapter, but I've had people on tumblr tell me that they hadn't realized he was black until this chapter so . . . if you didn't know before, you do now, lol.

Stan and Fiddleford didn’t leave the house until the kids had returned and Stan was able to call Soos and Wendy to babysit them. The twins especially liked the sound of getting to hang out with those two again, so it was a win-win. Stan drove to where he had told Ford and Spitfire to meet them.

Fiddleford had to laugh a bit when he saw where they would be “forgetting.”

“A bar’s your big plan?” Fiddleford asked.

“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to,” Stan assured him. “They have snacks, and it’s mostly so we can just hang out, us guys, without having to worry about anything else or thinking we have to actually do anything. There’s also a pool table and other stuff.”

Fiddleford laughed a bit more.

“Not sure what I was expectin’, but I’m not surprised.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Fiddleford kept laughing, and his laughter got louder the more he did it, and Stan found himself laughing along with him.

The two entered the bar, then looked around and managed to find that Ford and Spitfire had gone ahead and gotten them a table instead of places at the bar itself.

Real food was indeed on the table - mozzerella sticks and onion rings and chicken strips - and it looked like Spitfire and Ford had had a few beers between them.

They were giggling and hadn’t seemed to notice Stan and Fiddleford yet. They were sitting awfully close to each other, Spitfire’s arm around Ford’s shoulders, and Stan’s jaw dropped as he watched Ford lean in and press a kiss on Spitfire’s lips.

“When’d this happen?” Stan asked, his voice booming a little too loud.

Ford and Spitfire both jumped, Ford’s head whirling around to see Stan and Fiddleford.

“Stanley! Fiddleford! I, uh, hello!”

Ford laughed nervously. Spitfire was blushing rather heavily and moved a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“Hey.”

“Awww! You two are cute together!” Fiddleford said, giving Ford an encouraging smile.

“Uh, thank you. I, uh, excuse me,” Ford said, ducking out of the booth and rushing to the bathroom rather quickly.

Stan then grabbed Fiddleford’s arm firmly but gently.

“Fidds, did he ever get any kind of action in college?”

“Hm? Not outside of Hannah Brett dancing without her top on on top of his studying desk at the library. Why?”

“Are you sure that’s his only romantic and/or sexual interaction with anybody at all back then?”

“Pretty sure. Why?”

Stan then let go of Fiddleford’s arm and went after Ford.

In the bathroom, Ford was pacing back and forth and looking like his anxiety was growing to new heights.

“Was that your first - ?” Stan started, then was quickly cut off by Ford’s answer.

“Yes!”

“Whoa-ho! Go Stanford!”

“What am I gonna do!?”

Stan went to Ford and put a hand on his shoulder.

“First, deep breath.”

Ford obeyed.

“Now breathe out.”

Ford did so.

“Now tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know! He was really funny and had been really nice and we were just talking and it was just a few beers! And I just - did it and - ! Oh no, I hadn’t even asked him if he would’ve liked it!”

Ford leaned against the wall of the bathroom and sunk to the floor.

“What is wrong with me!?”

Stan snorted. “I think this explains why you’ve been needling and bickering with him every time I’ve seen you two carry a conversation. I mean, really? Fighting with him over environmental issues? Since when were you a tree hugger?”

“Stan!”

“Will you relax? So you’ve got a crush, people get those.”

Ford stared at Stan for a long time, as though only just realizing something. As though he had just put the pieces together of a puzzle and could only now see the big picture, and the picture was terrifying.

“No! No no no no, I can’t be infatuated with Spitfire!”

“Why not?” Stan asked.

“I haven’t been infatuated with anybody since - !”

The sentence cut itself off, Ford’s mouth unwilling to form the words for a moment. Stan was suddenly strongly reminded of Dipper when Dipper would go nonverbal.

But Ford did speak next.

“I haven’t been infatuated with anyone since Bill,” Ford admitted, voice much quieter than before.

Stan frowned at that, and there was a moment of silence. Stan moved to sit with Ford against the wall.

“I know this is pretty scary for you, because of that,” Stan said, “but I know Spitfire. He’s nothing like Bill, and honestly? You couldn’t have picked a better guy to fall for, if you wanna pursue it.”

Ford looked over at Stan, and he gave him an encouraging smile.

“And hey, he’s already like family to me. It’d be super cool if he was actually family.”

Ford shoved Stan, and Stan laughed.

“You really only could’ve done better if you fell for Fiddleford,” Stan said.

“I know all of Fiddleford’s sleeping habits, he and I never would’ve worked,” Ford said in a slight joking manner. Then what Stan said actually registered. “You think Fiddleford is ideal mate material, then?”

Stan blushed.

“D-did I say that?”

“I think you did,” Ford said, smirking now.

“I guess I did then. But, uh, I dunno if it’s gonna happen.”

“What makes you think it won’t?”

“I dunno. I’m me, I guess? I always fuck stuff up.”

“So do I,” Ford said. “And hey, we’re still here and they still talk to us. If anything, you’ve screwed up far less than I have.”

“True,” Stan said, and Ford shoved him again. They both laughed. “All right, tell you what. You successfully talk to Spitfire about that kiss and ask him out like a proper gentleman, and I’ll ask Fiddleford out and see what happens.”

“And we never, ever mention why I killed his raccoon wife.”

“Right. That - that would put on hell of a damper on things, and if he ever finds out, I’m denying any involvement in it.”

“Well, it’d be the truth, you had no involvement in it.”

“Hell, I’m denying knowing I ever knew about why, I’m gonna act like it’s entirely new information. Like that time we pulled that sugar-salt prank on Dad when we were too stupid to know better.”

Ford and Stan shuddered a bit, then laughed a little bit.

“His face was still funny,” Ford said.

“C’mon, let’s go back out there.”

Ford had to help Stan get back to his feet, then they went back to the table. They overheard the end of the story of how Ford handled Hannah Brett dancing shirtless during Spirit Week in the library.

“Fiddleford!”

“Well, he asked.”

Spitfire was laughing rather hard.

“You really tried to just keep studying?” Spitfire asked.

“I had an exam on Friday!”

“Oh, man. That story makes me wish I hadn’t dropped out of high school.”

“There are certainly many attractive women in college,” Fiddleford said.

“So what did you look like in college? Stan had the mullet,” Spitfire said.

“N-not too much different from right now. Just younger,” Ford said, blushing and looking annoyed. “Same hair cut and all that.”

“Good to know you were always this cute.”

Ford blushed more, and Stan snickered.

“So, you’re gonna take good care of my big bro or what?” Stan said, wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Depends. Does he want me to?”

“I - I, I, I, I, I believe in equality and have money of my own, but I would not be adverse to … companion … ship… and help occasionally… .” Ford said.

Stan laughed.

“You’re such a dork. Sit next to your new boyfriend.”

Stan gently shoved Ford towards the seat beside Spitfire, and Ford took the seat. Stan sat next to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford didn’t drink any alcohol, but several mixed drinks and beers later, Stan, Ford, and Spitfire were certainly extra interesting to hang out with.

Stan tended to slur a lot and ramble off poetry that didn’t make any sense, but it did its job regarding getting Fiddleford to blush.

Ford decided he was going to teach Spitfire how to play pool, and Spitfire pretended he had no idea how, but neither of them really played much because of all the laughing and giggling and kissing they did instead.

Stan meanwhile was rambling and saying lots of stuff he wouldn’t have had the nerve to say if he wasn’t tipsy.

“I used to give you such a hard time, and I’m s-sorry for tha’, and like, you’re not exactly my type, but you’re so nice and sweet and smart and all that, and you’ve been so nice to me, I just -”

“Stanley,” Fiddleford interrupted as Stan’s face kept getting closer to his. He put a finger up and held it against Stan’s lips. “As much as I appreciate it, if you wanna kiss me, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“I accept that,” Stanley said, and he swung his body back in response. “Has anyone told ya that you’d look real nice in one of those flower crown things Mabel talks about?”

“I can’t say that they have.”

And that was how the evening went for the men - lots of flirting and laughing and having fun. It certainly did get Fiddleford’s mind off of what was bothering him about work.

But then Spitfire’s phone rang, and he looked at his phone for the caller ID.

His smile fell.

“I’ve gotta take a leak,” Spitfire lied. “Be right back.”

“All right,” Ford said, more focused on the pool table right then.

Spitfire went into the bathroom, then answered the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Spitfire asked.

“The hell are you?” came Jimmy’s voice on the other end.

“Why’re you asking?”

“I’m at your house and you’re not here.”

“I haven’t been there for two months at this point.”

“Are you coming back soon?”

“What do you need, Jimmy?”

“I need a place to lay low, at least until I can figure out what I’m gonna do about these hellbent attack dogs.”

Spitfire sighed.

“The key is under the mat. I’ll be there as soon as I can manage. Is that all you need?”

“I - I might need a favor.”

“What is it?”

Jimmy didn’t say anything.

“That big of one?”

“I can give you whatever you want in return. I - I can even make Stan fall in love with you if that’s what you want.”

Spitfire’s heart jumped into his throat.

“You are still obsessed as fuck, right?”

“We’ll talk about it when I get there. I have to arrange some stuff first.”

“Found your key. Can you at least hurry?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow, tops.”

Spitfire then hung up and leaned against the wall.

He sighed heavily.

Margaret’s condemning voice returned to the echo in his brain, the words she said when she was angry that he had spent all that money on Jimmy’s bail, the words she said when she was upset that he was skipping town to see how Jimmy was doing in the hospital and would be paying Jimmy’s hospital bills.

_You’ve got no self-respect, all you are to that man is a wad of cash, our ancestors did not fight and flee slavery just so you could grovel for the approval and attention of a white man._

Spitfire took a deep breath, then went back outside.

Ford looked up and grinned at him.

“There you are! Thought the bathroom had an anomaly #146 for a minute there.”

“A what?”

“Worm hole in the toilet.”

Spitfire laughed.

Margaret’s voice died in the back of his brain.

Jimmy had the house key. He could wait until morning.


	37. Chapter 37

Spitfire was the first to wake up the next morning.

He paused in front of Ford’s room before he was able to reach Janice’s. He stayed there for a long moment, then continued on down the hall.

He’d just have to explain to him and Stan later. But he couldn’t leave Janice without any knowledge as to where he was and when he’d be back.

He gently pushed the door open and saw his daughter laying on the bed, fast asleep. He quietly walked into the room, then sat on the edge of her bed and reached his hand out to her shoulder. He gently shook it.

Janice groaned a little and squinted up at him.

“Daddy?”

“Hey sweetie.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s early. You can go back to sleep if you want. Daddy has to leave for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can be.”

“Where’re you going?”

“A buddy needs a favor. I’ll only be gone a day, tops. I promise.”

“Okay. Be back soon. I love you.”

Spitfire pressed a kiss against Janice’s forehead.

“I love you too, pumpkin.”

Janice got comfortable again and went back to sleep.

Spitfire left her room, closing the door behind him, then headed for the garage.

The sound of Spitfire’s motorcycle leaving the garage and shooting off down the street woke Dipper up, but Dipper ended up attributing it to his dreaming, then went back to sleep as best he could.

It took two hours for Spitfire to get to his home in California. He tested the knob on the door, then took out his house key and unlocked the door. Pushing it open, he called out.

“Jimmy?” It’s me.”

Spitfire didn’t hear anything at first, but Spitfire closed and locked the door back before moving further into the house.

Spitfire found him in the living room. Jimmy wasn’t sleeping, but he looked exhausted.

He looked up at Spitfire, and he looked … a lot older than Spitfire remembered him looking.

“Just what’s been going on, Jimmy? I’ve been seeing you on the news on and off this whole summer….”

Jimmy took a deep breath, and it sounded like his rib cage shuddered with each breath.

“I was supposed to have been sufficiently punished when Bill Cipher caused Weirdmageddon. For breaking my deal with the terror twin.”

“But you weren’t?” Spitfire guessed.

Jimmy sighed.

“I’ve been fighting every other goddamn occupation demon that’s out there, and … I can’t do this indefinitely. I knew what I was getting into when I sold my soul, but … I wasn’t afraid before.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Spitfire asked. “I’m not exactly a priest. I don’t know anything about demons. I’m Protestant, my denomination doesn’t even believe in them.”

“I didn’t know who else to turn to,” Jimmy said. “You’re - you’re the only friend I have left.”

Spitfire knew that was mostly Jimmy’s own fault. In many ways, the only reason Spitfire was the only one left was because Jimmy, for some reason, had been as nice as he could be to Spitfire and hadn’t done some of the worse things he could’ve done. And Spitfire didn’t have it in him to leave a friend in need.

In many ways, Jimmy was an older brother or a second father to him, despite his flaws, and Spitfire did see Jimmy as family, even if no one else in his family did.

“They’ll be coming here,” Jimmy said. “They’ll find out I’m here.”

“And my house will be another site on the news where people have gotten hurt or gone into comas,” Spitfire said.

“It’s not comas. They’ve lost their souls. Some of the weapons the others use feed off of human souls.”

“Jesus Christ, Jimmy.”

“I don’t know what to do at this point, but I can’t just hand myself over…. I can’t.”

Spitfire tried to give it some thought.

“There has to be some way around it…. Why did you make the deal in the first place?”

Jimmy took a deep breath again.

“You know that hospital bill I asked you to pay for thirty years ago?”

“Yeah?”

“That, uh, motorcycle accident that landed me in there had actually … I died, Spitfire. I made a deal for my soul in exchange for my life, so I could roam the open road for the rest of eternity. For … for a while, it was fine, but… .”

“Well, shit, Jimmy.”

“I know.”

“Is there a way to break the deal?”

“Yeah, but … it requires someone making a deal with me and taking my powers, thereby relinquishing me from the deal with Mephistopheles and taking away my immortality.”

Spitfire snorted.

“And you’re willing to give whatever I want in exchange for that.”

“Bingo. Making Stan fall in love with you is easy compared to some of the other shit I’ve had to do. Snap my fingers and boom, all yours. Just like you’ve wanted since you were a teenage brat.”

Spitfire certainly remembered those days back then, and he did still love Stanley now.

But then he thought of Ford, and his heart fluttered like it hadn’t since the days of being in Margaret’s presence making him happy.

“I don’t want you to do that,” Spitfire said.

“Hey, it’s whatever you want. What do you want?” Jimmy said. “I will literally give you anything if you take this from me.”

Spitfire stepped closer to Jimmy.

“Are you sure you’re okay with dying?” Spitfire asked.

“Immortality … is really, _really_ not what it’s cracked up to be. I don’t know what I was thinking….”

“You were thinking you were afraid and didn’t want to die,” Spitfire said. “You never were big on actually thinking your actions through.”

It was always about how Jimmy could do whatever he wanted with the least amount of consequences. Spitfire hadn’t bothered to question the reasons why when Stan was still with Jimmy, but after the fact, Spitfire was pretty sure that the reason Jimmy was an abusive jackass was because he found physical force to be the best way to get what he wanted. And when things didn’t go his way, physical force and insults was the quickest and easiest-to-understand ways of getting things done, even if it ended up being the least efficient in many instances.

He was quick to anger and had a brain he didn’t like using, but when he did use it, it was actually pretty sharp.

Jimmy Snakes did not do self-reflection. Not like Spitfire and not like Ford and not like Stan or Dipper or Mabel or Fiddleford. Jimmy Snakes never stopped long enough to ask himself if he actually wanted to be this way or not. If he was happy with who he was or if he wanted to change.

Spitfire understood this about him, and he had come to terms with it and wasn’t going to hold it against him.

Just because Jimmy was an asshole didn’t mean he deserved to go out the way the demons wanted him to.

Spitfire doubted that anyone actually deserved their soul to go to Hell or wherever Mephistopheles was taking it. Maybe it would fuel some of those demonic weapons….

The idea made Spitfire very uncomfortable.

Prison time or house arrest were things Jimmy did deserve. Even Spitfire deserved some prison time, for what he had gotten away with because Jimmy made Stan take the fall. And sometimes people didn’t get what they deserved.

But that didn’t mean compensating with hellfire and brimstone was an appropriate response.

“I’ll take your powers,” Spitfire said. “And I know what I want in return.”

“You name it and it’s yours, buddy,” Jimmy said, standing up out of the chair and holding his hand out for a handshake.

Spitfire told him, then they shook on it.


	38. Chapter 38

Ford wasn’t the last to wake up, but he lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling.

He had his memories of last night. He hadn’t been so drunk he couldn’t remember, but he was blushing furiously at the knowledge that he had indeed kissed Spitfire multiple times during the evening.

And … .

Ford had grown up with so many fears and nightmares of what a romantic relationship would be like. He wasn’t sure he was in love or anything - it was way too soon to think that way. It wasn’t like … it wasn’t like this was Bill…. Bill had been all-consuming. Loving Bill had been like drowning, like being a frog in an increasingly boiling pot of water. Loving Bill had been poisonous. Lethal.

This was so much different. It snuck up on him, and yet didn’t feel like a sledgehammer to the chest. It was more of a tickling, giggling sensation in his chest, like the ghosting of his own fingers and hands against Spitfire’s body as he showed Spitfire the right body position for playing pool.

Ford still had no sexual desire in the least, and that wasn’t something he had told Spitfire about. That was probably going to be a problem. But he … he had enjoyed spending time with him. In a way that was different from spending time with Fiddleford and Stan.

It was still a little frightening, even if the bad he had expected from it wasn’t following.

He looked at his phone and saw that he had a few notifications. He furrowed his eyebrow, trying to figure out what the app was that had the little red number next to it.

His eyes widened and his mouth shaped into an O when he remembered. The notifications were so he would know that he had new recordings for the messages on Spitfire’s phone.

He furrowed his eyebrows and gave the notifications a distressed look. He had forgotten about that, and now … now he was a giant jackass. That’s all he was, a giant jackass.

Shit. Spitfire deserved better. Deserved someone who wouldn’t bug his phone. He deserved … .

Stan. Stan was better than him.

Stan was who Spitfire really wanted.

Oh Moses, what had he been thinking?

It had to have been the alcohol. That’s what made Ford think it would be a good idea. The alcohol … he couldn’t even be angry at Spitfire, with a little alcohol and a burning crush on Stan having had embers for decades, kissing one twin instead of the other must’ve seemed like an okay thing to do.

The sickness Ford was starting to feel in his stomach might not have been from a hangover.

Ford pressed play on the messages, rolling onto his side and hugging his knees to his chest.

It was just conversations with Janice, checking up on her, until it reached the conversation with Stan about meeting them at the bar.

How had Ford not truly noticed just how sweet Spitfire was with his daughter before? Spitfire was a sweet, kind man, and … .

Then the last recorded conversation played.

Ford’s eyes widened as he heard Jimmy’s voice. Heard his proposal. The audio feedback from Spitfire’s end was clearly from the bar.

This conversation had happened while they were at the bar.

Jimmy offered Spitfire a deal. Stanley’s affections in exchange for … Stanley’s affection in exchange….

Ford rolled out of bed and launched himself towards the attached bathroom.

Ford was the last one to reach the kitchen. Everyone was smiling and laughing and having a good time.

And Spitfire wasn’t there.

“Where’s Spitfire?” Ford asked.

“Daddy said he had an errand to do,” Janice said. “He said he’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Hey, Grunkle Ford, are you okay?” Mabel asked.

“Drink too much?” Stan teased.

Ford didn’t have it in him to explain. So he just took his phone out and played the recorded message.

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“The hell are you?”_

_“Why’re you asking?”_

_“I’m at your house and you’re not here.”_

_“I haven’t been there for two months at this point.”_

_“Are you coming back soon?”_

_“What do you need, Jimmy?”_

_“I need a place to lay low, at least until I can figure out what I’m gonna do about these hellbent attack dogs.”_

_“The key is under the mat. I’ll be there as soon as I can manage. Is that all you need?”_

_“I - I might need a favor.”_

_“What is it? … That big of one?”_

_“I can give you whatever you want in return. I - I can even make Stan fall in love with you if that’s what you want. You are still obsessed as fuck, right?”_

_“We’ll talk about it when I get there. I have to arrange some stuff first.”_

_“Found your key. Can you at least hurry?”_

_“I’ll be there tomorrow, tops.”_

Everyone stared at the phone and at Ford.

Ford’s breathing was a bit laborious.

“He’s supposed to be our _friend_ ,” Ford spat out.

“That - that doesn’t actually mean he went to get a magic roofie or whatever,” Stan said quickly. “He didn’t - he wouldn’t do that.”

“ _He’s helping him when he knows what he did_!”

And Stan had a track record. Carla McCorkle and Fiddleford McGucket were the squeakiest cleanest love interests Stan had ever had. He wasn’t good at picking out good friends.

And despite all of Ford’s walls and suspicions, he still - !

He played him like a fiddle, just like - !

_“Heya, smart guy!”_

“How did you get that recording?” Dipper asked, changing the subject because it was easier to handle. And if he didn’t get a suitable answer, he wasn’t going to be able to really focus on the matter at hand any way.

“What’s a roofie?” Janice asked.

“Where does your father live?” Ford asked, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“Uh -” Janice started, but then the volume of the television sitting on top of the kitchen counter was turned up.

They all looked at Fiddleford.

“Uh oh,” Fiddleford breathed out.

“Breaking news, we just received word that another mysterious gathering involving notorious biker Jimmy Snakes occurred at a home in California, just along the state border. It doubles as a leather works store. The gathering turned violent with brawling and ended with an explosion. The store is no more, and it is unknown how many survivors there were. The owner of the store is a man known as Frank Pumberton. His whereabouts are currently unknown. Back to you, Toby,” Shandra Jiminez said into the camera.

Janice quickly grabbed her phone and tried calling her father.

It rang. And it rang. And it rang.

“No. No, no no no no no no! Daddy! Daddy pick up! Daddy!”

Back in California, Spitfire couldn’t hear the phone ringing over the sound of his motorcycle. All he could hear was the roaring of the engine, the sounds of the various modes of transportation chasing him and Jimmy, and the sounds of Jimmy hacking up a lung against his back as Jimmy clung to him to stay on the bike. He felt something warm against his back, and he was rather thankful that leather didn’t absorb liquid like cotton or jeans did. He wasn’t sure what it was Jimmy just coughed up, but he had a bad feeling it was blood.

In Gravity Falls, Stan had to sit down. Mabel pulled Janice into her arms and held her tightly.

“We don’t know if he was there. Maybe he got away and just can’t answer the phone. Maybe it’s on vibrate. Or went missing. Or… or something else completely normal and nothing to worry about.”

Janice buried her face into Mabel’s arm.

Ford was still standing, but his body was shaking.

No.

That wasn’t fair.

That wasn’t … .

He didn’t realize he was crying until Dipper got up out of his chair and came over to hug him too. Dipper mumbled something about Stan having told the kids some details about last night.

Ford was going to kill Jimmy Snakes.


	39. Chapter 39

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Then Margaret picked up.

“Hello? Margaret Pumberton speaking.”

So she had kept the last name even though they were divorced. Stan supposed that made sense.

“Hey, uh, this is Stan Pines, a friend of your ex-husband’s. Uh, have you seen the news?”

“I have. Why? Isn’t he and my daughter in Gravity Falls with you?”

Her voice had a slight accent, closer to Fiddleford’s than anything else. But Stan could also tell she was suppressing the Southern twang that threatened to bleed into her words.

Stan knew that people tended to fall into accents they rather they didn’t have when caught off guard, worried, or angry.

“Janice is here in Gravity Falls with us, but … we don’t know where Spitfire is. He’s not picking up his phone.”

There was silence on the other end.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is the exact address still - ?” And she asked about Fiddleford’s address, and Stan confirmed that it was. “Is Janice all right?”

“She’s … worried about her dad,” Stan said. “But physically, she’s fine. She’s not hurt.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in two hours.”

“I will.”

She hung up before he did.

This had been Stan’s first time ever speaking to Margaret Pumberton. He knew nothing about her. Other than she must’ve been black like Spitfire was, otherwise Janice would’ve been a lighter shade of brown. Though Stan also wasn’t any expert on genetics, so he could be wrong about that.

He supposed he’d find out when she showed up.

The kids had retreated to the living room, but both twins were on either side of Janice, doing their best to try to comfort her. Which mostly meant that Mabel and Janice did a lot of hugging, Janice’s face buried in the crook of Mabel’s neck. Dipper mostly sat awkwardly on the couch with them. Mabel had given Janice her unicorn-hide jacket, saying that it was designed to keep you safe. It was supposed to protect you from demons, but Mabel made it sound like it could protect her from the sad feelings too. And Spitfire had made it, so it was like giving her a little piece of her dad.

Stan stepped into the living room.

“Janice?”

Janice moved just enough to look at Stan.

“I, uh, called your mom. She said she’s coming out here.”

“Is … is she gonna take me home?” Janice asked.

“It’s … a possibility. Probably. She didn’t really say.” Stan asked.

Janice’s hold on Mabel tightened.

“Okay,” Janice said, moving her head back onto Mabel’s shoulder.

Stan didn’t really know what else to do. Janice didn’t really talk about her mom a lot, and the kid had behaved like she was afraid of a lot of stuff, of doing a lot of stuff, as though she was somehow going to be in trouble, and that gave Stan a bad feeling, but Margaret was still her mom. If anything had happened to Spitfire … she needed her mom. She couldn’t stay with them forever.

He had no real reason to think Margaret was a bad mother.

Maybe Janice was just a lot like Dipper. Dipper was afraid of a lot of things too, and that didn’t reflect badly on his nephew and his wife.

Now that he had contacted Margaret, though, he had no idea what he should do. Spitfire wasn’t picking up.

While he would have been loath to do it, he didn’t even have Jimmy’s number. Or knew if Jimmy even had a cell phone. He couldn’t call Jimmy, even if he wanted to.

Ford had locked himself in his bedroom. Stan had no idea what he was doing in there.

He was a bit startled when he felt a hand on his arm, but he turned his head and saw that it was just Fiddleford.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan sighed.

“I don’t know how to feel or what to do. He … he was my friend,” Stan said.

And that summarized the whole thing. Even if Spitfire was alive, he did have to answer for the phone recording. As much as Stan did think that Spitfire would never agree to Jimmy’s claims, the fact that he wasn’t here with them and had gone off and probably had gone to do Jimmy a favor … that didn’t look good.

It didn’t look good at all.

While Stan did trust that Spitfire wouldn’t magic-roofie him, he was angry about how this was affecting Ford. And he had all but set them up himself….

Fiddleford’s phone then rang. Fiddleford jumped a bit, then hurried to answer it.

“McGucket residence,” Fiddleford said.

Fiddleford had looked worried and concerned to begin with, but Stan furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the man’s face get more distressed.

“O-oh, hello, uh, now isn’t really a good time, I’m afrai -”

And then the other person on the other end interrupted him, and Fiddleford closed his mouth and listened. Occasionally supplying an appropriate response.

At the end of whatever else they were saying, Fiddleford said, “I’m sorry, but my decision still stands. I will not build that for you. That’s my final answer.”

The person on the other end said something else, and Fiddleford’s eyes got wide.

The kids were watching now as well, and they were all frowning.

“I - I understand. Goodbye.”

Fiddleford then hung up, then stared at the phone.

“Fiddlenerd?” Stan said.

“I - I’m going to make some fresh coffee,” Fiddleford said.

He quickly pitter-pattered into the room - moving more like an animal than a person - and Stan followed him.

“Fidds, what’s going on?” Stan asked. “Who was on the phone?”

Fiddleford’s hands were shaking as he tried to use the coffee maker. Stan came over and took Fiddleford’s hand into his own, helping them stay steady.

“What’s going on?” Stan repeated, desperate for something to help him get his mind off how useless he felt regarding everything else.

“Y-you remember what I said about the government asking for something, and I refused to build it?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan nodded.

“Well, uh, well - they - they had somehow heard about the memory gun. They wanted me to build another one…. And….”

Stan’s eyes widened.

If the military had those things … no, more like the FBI or secret service or something like that…. Spy work. Espionage.

“They … they then asked if I was aware of how they typically keep people quiet about things they don’t want anyone to know about,” Fiddleford said. “It, uh, it kind of sounded like a threat, but…. M-maybe I’m overreactin’.”

“Holy shit,” Stan said, eyes wide.

That … that was big.

Everything that was happening was so, so big.

Then there was a huge, loud roaring sound from outside. It got to be so loud it shook the building.

Fiddleford went to the window, but Stan went to the living room.

Dipper had his hands clamped over his ears, teeth gritted and his face twisted into a painful wince. Even Mabel and Janice were plugging their ears.

It was like a motorbike, but louder. So, so much louder.

Stan couldn’t even hear Ford bounding down the stairs over the noise.

Ford threw himself towards the front door, hands clad in the unicorn leather gloves Spitfire had made for him.

The noise died down a lot faster than the noise had arrived, as though the power source to it had been abruptly cut off.

Ford threw the door open.

“I knew it! I knew you were going to be the reason he came back!” Ford spat.

“I know, I know, I’ll explain in a minute, just - !” Spitfire’s voice came from the outside, then Stan heard a very unfamiliar sound.

Stan quickly moved into the entry way, eyes wide for two reasons.

The first reason was that Jimmy was with Spitfire.

The second, and most alarming, reason was that someone had chosen to shoot Spitfire in the head with an arrow. Its entry point had been the back of Spitfire's head, the arrow head sticking out of his forehead.

“Daddy -!” Janice started, but Stan threw his hand out.

“Stay in the living room!” Stan ordered.

“But Grunkle Stan -!” Mabel said.

“ _All three of you stay in the living room_!”

None of them needed to see this.

When Stan looked back at Spitfire, Spitfire was very much still moving and had snapped the arrow in two pieces, then started to pull out the part of the arrow that was still in his head. Stan looked away, unable to watch.

“Y’know, this really makes me get what you meant about immortality sucking,” Spitfire said.

“Yeah, yeah, can you do that faster? They’re right on our tail!” Jimmy said.

Spitfire sighed, and Stan risked a look back at Spitfire. He had gotten the arrow out.

“Stay in the mansion, don’t go near the kids, don’t bother Stan and Ford, just … die quietly in a corner,” Spitfire said, turning around and snapping his fingers. A whip appeared in Spitfire’s hand, and he started to walk back out towards the encroaching … holy shit, that looked like an army.

Oh. Oh no. No no no no no no no.

“That I can do,” Jimmy said, then he was hit by a fit of coughing.

Blood sprayed from Jimmy’s mouth onto Fiddleford’s wood floor, first in small specks, but then a rather large loogie of blood flew from his mouth and lobbed itself against a potted plant.

“The HELL IS GOING ON!?” Stan demanded, but he didn’t get any answers.

Jimmy leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor. His sunglasses prevented Stan from getting a good look at his eyes, but just the way he held himself was so different from how Stan was used to seeing him.

“Goddammit!” Ford shouted, then he ran outside.

Stan looked from Jimmy to Ford and Spitfire outside and the growing, encroaching force, to the kids in the living room archway staring at Jimmy, then at Fiddleford.

“Stay in the living room!” Stan told the kids again, then he ran up to his bedroom. He quickly grabbed the belt he had made of unicorn hide, then hurried back down the stairs. “Fiddleford, stay inside!”

“Stanley - !”

“Grunkle Stan!”

There was no way Spitfire and Ford could take on that entire group of people by themselves.

He’d chew Spitfire out for making him worry later.


	40. Chapter 40

Ford very quickly realized that Spitfire and Jimmy had been followed by other occupation demons. Every single one of these people were of the same demonic binding contract as Jimmy had been. As Spitfire was now.

Dammit dammit dammit! How could Ford let his guard down like that - !

But now what’s the time to ponder over that.

With how many of them there were, it was a long, long fight. And with only his unicorn hide gloves as any real kind of weapon or protection against these things, it was incredibly dangerous.

He and Stan were the only ones in this situation who wouldn’t be able to regenerate body parts or cells, even parts of the brain. They were the most vulnerable in this situation, but even another occupation demon couldn’t really survive against so many others.

Demons were really the only ones who could kill other demons. The only other creature that could do that was an angel, and Ford and Stan weren’t those either.

(Of course, that was talking about creatures in this dimension. Ford was sure there were plenty of creatures in other dimensions that could take on demons and angels, but there were actually several dimensions without either or, so Ford couldn’t be sure.)

Right punch, left punch, right punch, left, dodge, run, throw big rock, punch, punch, punch, dodge, punch -

He could hear both Spitfire’s whip and Stan’s belt cracking through the air, leaving welts on their enemies.

All the occupation demons were of various jobs, including an archer. Which is where the arrow must’ve come from. There were so many careers present that Ford honestly couldn’t focus on what all of them were; he was simply glad that there was no chef.

If he ever had to meet Chef Cleo again, it would be way too soon.

Sweat was rolling down his neck and back, and he could feel it collecting in his shirt where his stomach had gotten more pudgy since coming back from the other side of the portal.

It had been too long since he had had a fight like this, against so many different people/creatures. But back then, even, he hadn’t had to worry about people he cared about getting hurt.

“STAN! BEHIND YOU!”

“GOT IT COVERED!”

Ford wasn’t sure where Stan had gotten his brass knuckles out from, but he was glad Stan had them.

Ford and Spitfire somehow ended up back-to-back, panting and trying to keep their attackers at bay.

“I think I can create a couple more weapons,” Spitfire said. “Jimmy wasn’t exactly clear on what I can and can’t do.”

“Do you -” punch! “- really think I’m going to accept your help!?”

“You’re helping, aren’t you?”

The crack of Spitfire’s whip was like electricity in Ford’s ears, and he hated the sound, but he fought through it anyway.

“I’m not helping you, I’m protecting my family! When this is over, I’m kicking _your_ ass next!”

“Mine?”

“Yes!”

“Why mine?”

“Why? WHY!?”

Ford let his anger get the best of him without consciously making the decision to do so.

He turned around, grabbed Spitfire’s shoulder, then gave him one hell of a right hook.

Spitfire fell to the ground, and suddenly Fiddleford’s front yard was deathly quiet as Ford yelled at him.

“YOU MADE A DEAL WITH JIMMY SO YOU COULD HAVE STAN FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU, THAT’S WHY!”

“That wasn’t what the deal was! I wouldn’t do that!” Spitfire said, looking at no one but Ford.

“Then what was the deal, _Frank_!?”

Ford realized he probably shouldn’t have used his legal name as he watched Spitfire’s eyes change. He recognized that look.

It was the same look he and Stan got when something reminded them of something bad and it scared the shit out of them.

It made Ford feel bad, but he refused to not stand his ground.

“What was the deal?” Ford asked, voice softer this time.

Ford didn’t know why the fighting around them had stopped, but he didn’t question it right then.

Spitfire took some deep breaths before answering.

“He gave me his powers in exchange for letting me help.”

Ford furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?”

That didn’t make any sense. That’s not how demon deals worked. The human had to get something in return. That wasn’t … that wasn’t … .

“I told him I didn’t want anything, and he said I had to ask for something in return, so I asked for him to let me help him with only getting his powers in return!”

Spitfire’s tone seemed to be more in control of his state of mind than any conscious desire to raise his voice. He almost sounded panicked.

Ford wondered what had happened to make the use of his own name cause him so much distress.

Then the earth began to shake.

Stan ended up falling over, landing on his ass, and Ford struggled to keep standing. Spitfire, against reason, unsteadily stood back up and grabbed onto Ford, attempting to keep him standing, but then they just both fell to the ground. Spitfire’s leather was very, very dusty now.

Mephistopheles crawled out from the Earth. His face was a skull, so he didn’t really have a facial expression, but Ford had the impression he was not happy. Or at the very least exhausted.

The occupation demons bowed before him, but Spitfire, Ford, and Stanley just stared at him.

Mephistopheles stepped over to Ford and Spitfire. He made some kind of growling sound.

“Why is it that when something goes wrong, _you are always involved, Ford Pines_?”

Ford shrugged. Without realizing it, he moved his arm to make an attempt to shield Spitfire from Mephistopheles’s apparent wrath.

But Mephistopheles lifted his hand, and Ford felt himself levitated, then he was thrown across the yard. Ford screamed as he flew through the air. He ended up landing on Stan.

“Oof!” Stan grunted as Ford knocked the air out of him.

Mephistopheles got really, really close to Spitfire, their faces only a few inches apart.

“You’re telling me that Jimmy Snakes and you shook on a deal that involved him getting rid of his powers in exchange for what essentially amounts to nothing?”

Spitfire nodded.

“And you’re okay with this?”

Spitfire nodded again.

“Are you absolutely sure there is nothing you would want in return for an eternity of pain, murder, and solitude? _Nothing at all_?”

Spitfire swallowed hard.

“I … I already have everything I could want. I just … wanted an old friend to finally learn how to let go.”

Let go of his anger, of things not going his way, of grudges and resentment and pain. Let go and maybe be a better person for it, even in the face of death.

Jimmy Snakes never let anything go, and that had always been the big thing that made him such an asshole.

Mephistopheles pulled back from Spitfire, then made some noises none of them were certain could be replicated or even really described. Then he just sighed, puffs of smoke exiting the holes in his skull where the ears would’ve been.

“I, Mephistopheles, hereby acknowledge the loophole of the occupation demon deals. That when a good soul, no matter how previously tainted, gives up freedom for the benefit of another, is free from my servitude and can keep his stupid demonic powers. You, Frank ‘Spitfire’ Pumberton, will not serve Hell, but Heaven. Michael will be in touch with you shortly.”

“M-Michael? As in - the Archangel Michael?”

Mephistopheles didn’t answer.

“The rest of you, back in the Pit! Now!”

The ground shook more, but after the last demon went into the earth, it closed itself back up, and the world was as it had been before.

Spitfire let his back hit the grass. He sighed heavily.

“Holy shit,” Spitfire said.

Ford and Stan got up and hurried to his side. Stan moved to the other side, then both of them leaned over to stare at him.

“Dude, you seriously took this on without making a real deal?” Stan asked. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Did you know about the loophole beforehand? Jimmy could’ve taken everything away from you like that!”

Spitfire shook his head.

“No, I … I hadn’t known about any loophole… . I just … it didn’t really feel like anything would really be over if Jimmy … didn’t get a chance to be human again and do what humans do… y’know? Like … how you’re supposed to help restless spirits go to the other side…. Maybe … maybe the guilt would stop if I … .”

“Guilt? The hell are you talking about?” Stan asked. “If he hurt you, I’m gonna - !”

Spitfire snorted.

“It’s nothing, Stan…. Jimmy ended up being right about Margaret in the end anyway….”

Ford and Stan looked at each other, worried, but they then helped Spitfire get back to his feet.

“Daddy!”

The men looked up and saw that the children were running out to reach them. Janice threw herself at Spitfire, and Spitfire hugged her back.

“I thought you were dead, and then the fighting happened and -!”

“I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I love you, Daddy!”

“I love you too.”

“Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, are you okay!?”

“I’m so glad you’re all still alive! Holy crap, that was wild!”

Mabel didn’t even admonish Dipper for cursing.

“How’s Jimmy holdin’ up?” Stan asked.

Mabel and Dipper exchanged looks, then looked up at him.

“Well -”

“McGucket told us not to bother him -”

“I suggested we just bury him near Beatrice, but he insists on calling the town doctor and Mr. and Mrs. Valentino.”

“His chances of survival aren’t good, and we’re not upset by this,” Mabel finished.

“So he’s still alive?” Stan asked.

“Yeah,” both twins said, sounding more than a little disappointed.

“He’s bleeding internally, and he’s very DNR, so his being alive won’t last long,” Spitfire said. “Though he’s already lasted a lot longer than I thought he was going to….”

Stan and Ford exchanged looks again.

They really, really didn’t have a good feeling about this.


	41. Chapter 41

Jimmy got moved to the living room, though the man was barely awake at this point. The biggest sign that he was still awake - and alive - was when he’d move to vomit blood over the side of the couch. He had a bucket to do that in now, and Stan had helped Fiddleford mop up the blood in the hallway.

The doctor had arrived, but all he could do was shrug after looking him over.

“You really should have called 911,” the doctor said.

Spitfire shook his head.

“He doesn’t want the hospital.”

“He’s going to die otherwise,” the doctor said, giving Spitfire a hard look.

“He’s aware,” Spitfire said.

“Sir, are you aware that - ?” the doctor said, looking at Jimmy.

Jimmy vomited up some more blood, then cleared his throat and managed to speak.

“Very,” was all Jimmy said as he lay back down on the couch. “No hospital. Won’t help.”

“Are you able to make him comfortable?” Spitfire asked.

Ford grumbled something under his breath about not caring if Jimmy was comfortable, but the others either didn’t hear him or were just ignoring him.

“I can give you a prescription for pain medication, but that’s about it.”

“Thank you,” Spitfire said.

The doctor wrote the prescription, then Spitfire moved to stand up and take it to the pharmacy. Stan, however, took the sheet of paper from his hand.

“I’ll go get it,” Stan said.

“All right.”

“Do ya want anyone to go with you?” Fiddleford asked, awkwardly standing along the edge of the room.

“We’ll be fine here,” Ford said.

Dipper and Mabel nodded. Dipper had grabbed the electric baton from down in the basement, just in case. It had been making Stan nervous to look at it, but he didn’t blame the kid for getting it.

“Sure, why not?” Stan said, sounding distracted.

So Fiddleford went with Stan to the car. He reached out and touched Stan’s arm. Stan stiffened.

“Are you all right?”

Stan turned his face towards Fiddleford. His eyes were not watering, and his body was steady, but his face looked rather distressed.

“I - I know he’s an asshole. I know he hurt my family.”

_The stars above them sparkled, Jimmy’s arm around his shoulders as they lay on the grass atop the hill, Jimmy’s bike parked nearby. Just them. The gang would probably be wondering where they were at this point. But it was so pretty._

_“You know what’s better-lookin’ than the sky up there?”_

_“What?”_

_“You.”_

_Stan had blushed so hard and tried to deny it, but Jimmy wouldn’t let him._

“But I never wanted him _dead_.”

Fiddleford moved his hand to Stan’s shoulder.

“There’s no … wrong way to handle this. What do you want to do?” Fiddleford asked.

Stan took a deep breath.

“I want to get this medication.”

“Okay. We’ll do that. Do you … want me to drive?”

“… Yeah.”

So Fiddleford took the wheel.

On their way into town, a very sleek, expensive black car drove up to the McGucket mansion.

It parked. The driver’s side door opened.

Out stepped Margaret Pumberton.

Her clothes looked like it could cut someone, they were so sharp and stylish. Her hair was sleek, was either a wig or had a lot of product in it. Her appearance was incredibly well-maintained. She looked and even smelled like she had money, and the look on her face made it clear that she was not to be messed with.

She had the air of a woman who had climbed her way to the top from the bottom up. An inspiration for many.

Her high heels clacked on the steps up to the mansion. She lifted her hand, then knocked three times.

With Stan not in the house, no one had any idea who it could be aside from Mr. and Mrs. Valentino. So when Ford opened the door, he had no idea who she was.

“Uh, hello.”

“Where is Janice?”

“Jan- are you her mother?”

“Yes, now where is she?”

“I-inside,” Ford said, trying to figure out why she was here.

She didn’t exactly look like what he had imagined when he conjured up an image of what Spitfire’s ex-wife could have looked like. In all honestly, he had imagined someone who dressed and behaved a bit more like he did.

They didn’t look like they had a single thing in common.

“How did you get here again - ?” Ford asked, but his question was ignored as she entered the living room.

“Just what is going on in here?!”

“Mommy!?”

“Margaret!?”

Jimmy vomited up more blood.

Margaret’s angry expression was rather terrifying, especially with the aura of power she exuded.

“What is he doing here?! Why are you letting Janice see this!? Young lady, move to the other room!”

Janice immediately stood up, but she didn’t move from beside Mabel and Dipper. And Margaret didn’t stop chastising them. Or rather, chastising Spitfire.

“And what’s the matter with you!? Your friend Stanley called me up saying you were missing and no one knew where you were and you weren’t picking up the phone! I drive two hours into Oregon to come pick Janice up and here you are, not blown to smithereens or with any burns or signs of injury, and you let _that man_ near _my_ daughter!” She turned her head to look at Janice. “Don’t watch that!”

Janice lifted her hand to block Jimmy from her line of vision. It hadn’t been as though she had enjoyed watching the man retch blood, but she wanted to be with Mabel, and Mabel hadn’t wanted to let the man out of her sights, despite Jimmy looking like he wouldn’t be moving or hurting anybody anytime soon.

“Margaret, please, let me explain -” Spitfire started, but he got cut off.

Smack!

The kids and Ford all stared in shock as Margaret abruptly slapped Spitfire right across the face, her nails just long and sharp enough to cut his cheek.

His newly acquired demonic powers healed it as she and Ford watched on.

Margaret’s eyes widened, fear mixing with the anger. Spitfire took a very deep breath, trying to prepare himself for what he knew was coming.

“Margaret, please -”

“Janice, come here now.”

Janice shook her head, her hand faltering from shielding her face from Jimmy. She gripped onto Mabel’s sweater sleeve tightly.

Mabel moved in front of Janice, as though shielding her from her mother, and Dipper took a big step forward, protecting both of them. The electric baton wasn’t turned on, but it could still hurt even without the electrical current.

“Come here! Janice!”

“Let me explain what happened, please!” Spitfire said.

“Shut it, Frank,” Margaret spat out.

“You got mixed up in your friend’s devil worship, and I refuse to let my daughter have any part of it! We’re leaving, Janice, come here now!”

“I - I don’t want to leave! I wanna stay with Daddy and Mabel!”

“It’s not up for you to decide, come here now!”

“I don’t wanna leave! I don’t want to!”

“Margaret, please!”

Ford’s hands were balling into fists.

“Ma’am, I request that you leave,” Ford said. “You’re not welcome here, and I will not allow anyone to hurt my friends and family that way.”

“She’s my daughter!”

She turned around, then watched as Ford unholstered his gun.

“I’m not giving you a choice in the matter. Leave.”

The kids and Spitfire didn’t like seeing the gun. He understood this. He knew it wasn’t the correct course of action.

But it got her out of the house.

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Ford then put the gun away and hurried to the phone.

“What’re you doing now?” Spitfire asked.

“Calling the cops before she does,” Ford said.

Jimmy coughed up more blood. Something fell from his hand as he rolled over to spit it into the bucket.

Janice’s eyes caught onto the small trinket. She hesitantly took a few steps forward and picked it up.

“What’s this?”

Mabel hadn’t let go of Janice, so she was right beside her.

“A whistle?”

Jimmy couldn’t answer. There was too much blood depositing into the bucket.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Character death. 
> 
> Also, there are only two more chapters after this one.

Fiddleford paid for the medication. Stan’s hands had shook too much while taking his wallet out, and it didn’t feel right to let Stan pay money for anything of Jimmy’s.

Fiddleford could imagine what Stan’s life with Jimmy had been like back then. He may not know all the details or even the exact way they related to one another, but while Fiddleford’s own relationships had been … symbiotic and positive, he had known people (including Stanford) who had ended up parasitic relationships. He could imagine plenty for how Jimmy had treated Stanley.

It may just be his imagination in the end, regardless of how much was true and what wasn’t, but he felt like he understood, and he felt like protecting Stanley as much as he could in this situation.

Blubs and Durland passed their car on the way back to the mansion, and that made both of them nervous.

Stan pressed down harder on the gas pedal, now worried about Ford and the kids.

The cop car got there before they did, and Stan quickly parked and jumped out of the car as fast as he could manage, Fiddleford right behind him.

Nothing seemed to have changed from since they left, however. But Durland was in the middle of taking a statement from Ford. He stopped mid-sentence when Stan and Fiddleford arrived in the living room.

“What’s going on?” Stan asked, his entire body language yelling the fact that he was tense.

“Do you know why Spitfire’s ex-wife showed up, Stanley?” Ford asked.

“W-well, I called her, ‘cause we didn’t know what had happened to Spitfire yet….” Stan said.

“And she’s the one with custody of the girl,” Blubs said, seeking confirmation.

Spitfire nodded. “Yes, she does.”

Blubs sighed.

“I believe your story, and we’re willing to take her in for assault, but I’m afraid that unless you have evidence that she’s a danger to the child, there’s no way we can keep her from taking her with her.”

“But I don’t want to go with Mommy, I wanna stay here!”

“We know, sweetie, but….” Blubs said.

Durland and Blubs gave each other a look.

“Why don’t you tell us in your own words what it’s like to live with your mother?” Durland suggested.

“Perhaps in the other room, considering … he’s over there,” Blubs said.

Jimmy coughed up another lob of blood.

Stan crossed the living room and took the prescription out of the package.

“Speaking of which, are you absolutely sure he doesn’t need a hospital?” Durland asked.

“Yes,” Ford said firmly. “He’s refused most medical treatment. This is how he wants it.”

“If … you don’t mind, I think we’d like to have an audio record of his statement for that. Just in case, y’know,” Durland said.

“Understandable,” Ford said.

Durland took out a tape recorder, then made his way over to the couch.

Stan helped Jimmy take the pain medication, then stepped back to allow Durland some room.

“No hospital. Content to lay here. Margaret’s a bitch, by the way.”

“ _Jimmy_!” Spitfire chastised, gesturing at Janice.

“Like she hadn’t noticed?” Jimmy remarked, voice faint and gravely, but still full of a lot of sass.

“Not - appropriate!”

Jimmy just lifted his hand up and made a shoo motion with it, as though pushing something away or throwing something. Spitfire gave Jimmy an irritated glare.

“Um,” Janice spoke up, taking a few steps forward. She held the whistle up. “Since you’re, uh, awake and … not dead yet, is this yours? What is it?”

Jimmy peered over at what she was holding.

“Oh. That. You can have that.”

“But what is it?”

Jimmy coughed up more blood before answering.

“Have any pets?”

“Uh, no.”

“Margaret pull the whole allergy thing? Or was it that they’d make a mess?”

“Both.”

“Jimmy,” Spitfire said sternly.

“Blow it and find out,” Jimmy said, closing his eyes. Potentially to go to sleep.

“Janice,” Spitfire said just as sternly.

“I wouldn’t do that, there’s no telling -” Ford said in agreement with Spitfire, but Janice stared at the whistle for a long moment.

She ended up thinking about the kind of pet she had always wanted, then took a deep breath.

“Janice, I don’t think -” Mabel started.

“No - !” Dipper said.

Janice then blew the whistle. They couldn’t hear anything.

Then the floor opened up. The kids rushed to one end of the room, closer to Ford and Spitfire, while Stan ended up on the other side of the room, closer to the end of the couch where Jimmy was laying his head.

Out popped what could only be described as a hell hound.

Except it was a chihuahua-pomeranian with three heads.

The ground closed up after it, and it sat there in the middle of the living room, panting and looking excited.

“Awwwwww!” both Janice and Mabel went.

Janice knelt down and held her arms out for it, and it ran to her and jumped into her arms.

“It’s so cute!”

“Is - is that supposed to be a hell hound?” Ford asked.

The dog barked, and a puff of fire popped out, fizzling in the air.

“Yup. Hell hound.”

“It is pretty cute, though,” Blubs said.

Stan looked over at Jimmy.

“You’re pretending to be asleep,” Stan stated.

“Kinda,” Jimmy rasped out. “Dyin’ takes longer than I thought it would.”

“You’re being awfully nice.”

“Eh. Spitfire didn’t ask for a favor in return, so it’s the least I can do. Even if she does go back with The Bitch, that little pest is basically attached to her hip now and will protect her when Spitfire can’t.”

Stan snorted.

“You did always hated being in someone else’s debt.”

The kids were absorbed in the dog, and the cops were talking with Ford and Spitfire and trying to get all the statements they needed, including Janice’s. Fiddleford’s attention was split, though he wasn’t actively involved in any of it.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not stupid. I know this is too little shit too late…. And I know I’m a piece of shit…. But I wanna say I’m sorry.”

Stan didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on the kids.

“I’m … sorry for hurtin’ your nephew… . I’m sorry for … .”

Stan waited. And waited.

Then he turned his head towards Jimmy. Blood was dribbling down his chin.

Stan reached out to take his pulse.

He didn’t have one.

When there was a knock at the door, Stan went to answer it. It was Mr. and Mrs. Valentino.

“We’re here! Where’s the dead body?”

Those two were very, very strange people. It was so weird to have those faces be so smiley and bright while talking about death.

In a weird way, it made Stan feel like he could handle this.


	43. Chapter 43

The Valentinos carted Jimmy’s dead body into their hearse, and that was the last of Jimmy Stan would ever see.

Another cop car pulled up to the mansion, Margaret and two of Blubs and Durland’s coworkers stepping out of it.

Stan sat down for the first time since Jimmy had arrived. He sat down on the steps leading up to the mansion and watched Blubs, Durland, Ford, Spitfire, Margaret, and the other two cops handle the situation.

Stan had no idea what Janice had said in her statement. Blubs and Durland had kept her separate from the rest of them during it to prevent any changes to her story.

Janice sat beside Stan, and the twins were on her other side. The hell hound sat in Janice’s lap, enjoying the pets she was giving it.

It seemed to be helping with her anxiety. Stan didn’t think he had seen her this calm before.

“I don’t think they’ll let me stay with Daddy,” Janice said.

“But - !” Mabel started.

“Mom’s mean to Daddy, but she’s not that bad to me. I don’t think they have a reason to….”

Mabel and Dipper both frowned.

“Well - well, when we’re back in California, you’ll just have to come visit with us a lot! And have sleepovers and - !” Mabel said.

Janice smiled.

“I’d like that, but I dunno if Mom’s gonna allow that a lot…. I’ll figure some way to see you guys outside of school.”

Janice turned her head towards Stan.

“Thank you for letting me spend the summer with you and Dr. Pines and Dr. Fiddleford, Mr. Pines.”

“Any time, kid,” Stan said. “You and your dad are always welcome with us.”

Blubs and Spitfire walked over to them, the looks on their faces not boding well.

“You have to go home with your mom, darling. I’m sorry.”

Janice stood up, still holding the dog.

“I understand. Thank you for helping, Sheriff Blubs.”

“This is completely ridiculous!” Ford was yelling, getting in the faces of the police officers that had come with Margaret.

“If you need anything, you let us know, all right?” Stan said. “If anything bad happens, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“I will. Thanks, Mr. Pines.”

Spitfire knelt down and gave Janice a hug. When they parted, the dog licked Spitfire’s face.

Janice then turned to Mabel and Dipper. Mabel was close to tears.

“We’ll see you at school,” Dipper said, holding his hand out to her.

She shook it, giving it a small squeeze.

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna be worried about you and think about you every day,” Mabel said, pulling Janice into a hug.

“I’ll be thinking about you too,” Janice said.

“Janice! We’re leaving!” Margaret called.

Janice hesitated a moment, then leaned in and pressed a kiss against Mabel’s cheek.

She then turned around and hurried towards her mother.

Spitfire tensed up significantly, and he watched in fear as his daughter went to Margaret.

Mabel lifted her hand to where Janice had kissed her, and the tears rolled down the other cheek. Dipper put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder.

“I love her,” Mabel said.

“As a friend?” Dipper asked quietly.

“I dunno….”

Dipper squeezed her shoulder firmly.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to her if we can help it.”

Margaret tried to grab Janice’s arm, but the hell hound snapped at her hand.

Dipper and Mabel both smiled a little bit.

“And I think Blaze won’t either.” 

It was a solemn evening in the McGucket mansion.

Just two days later, the old men had to send Dipper and Mabel back on the bus to California. Soos and Wendy were at the bus stop with them.

“Say hi to Waddles for me,” Stan said as he hugged Mabel. “Hope he’s better from that cold or whatever it was he had.”

“I will, and I hope so too,” Mabel said.

“You keep us updated on how Janice is doing,” Ford said.

Mabel and Dipper both nodded.

“And don’t forget to write, okay?” Wendy said.

“Or call, phone calls are good too,” Soos said. “We wanna make sure you got back to California all safe.”

“We will, Soos.”

“Wait!” shouted a familiar voice.

They all turned their heads to see a motorcycle barreling down the road. Ghost Eyes was driving, and when he came to a stop, Gideon hopped off the back of it.

He paused then, and Dipper and Gideon just stared at each other for a moment.

Gideon caught his breath.

“I’m out of town for two days, then I hear the cops showed up at the mansion and you’re leaving already, and - and I know I said we should spend some time apart but I can’t just let you leave without saying goodbye and - !”

Dipper smiled, then walked over to Gideon.

“It’s been crazy, but I’m glad you stopped to say bye,” Dipper said. “I think the months before I come back will be more than enough of a break, don’t you think?”

“Hm? You mean - ?”

Dipper followed Janice’s lead and pressed a kiss on Gideon’s cheek.

“There’ll be more of that when I come back. Take care of yourself, Gideon.”

“Y-you too. And I mean that, take care of yourself! No climbing and jumping off buildings!”

“Ha ha, I will!”

Dipper then went back to his sister’s side, and Mabel was giving him a big grin.

“I thought you hated that I was seeing Gideon,” Dipper said.

“He proved himself with that note he put on the flowers,” Mabel said. “And I have to admit, that was cute.”

The kids finished saying their goodbyes, then got onto the bus.

When the bus rolled completely out of sight, Stan and Ford sighed heavily.

“I kinda really want to get back on the boat,” Stan said.

“Me too,” Ford agreed.

Back at the mansion, Stan and Ford took their time packing their things, as did Spitfire.

Ford knocked on Spitfire’s door. Spitfire looked up.

“I was wondering…. Where are you going to go?” Ford asked.

Spitfire shrugged.

“I figured the only thing I can do is set up my leatherworks shop somewhere else…. But other than that, I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going….”

Ford frowned.

“Well … you’d be welcome to travel with Stan and I. If you’d like.”

Spitfire stared at him.

“Are you sure?”

Ford blushed a bit.

“Well, I’d understand if you didn’t want to, I have … unjustly accused you of quite a few things this summer…. But I would like it if you came.”

Spitfire stood up from the bed, then walked over to Ford. Ford made eye contact with him.

“I think I’d like to do that,” Spitfire said.

Their lips found each other, and Ford’s face turned a darker red.

Meanwhile, Stan found Fiddleford.

“Hey, I was thinking….”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“With that call from the government and the sort-of threat they gave … I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving you by yourself here.”

“Honestly, I don’t feel comfortable staying here…. Maybe it wasn’t a real threat, but….”

“Do you wanna go sailing with me and Ford?”

“I - I think I’d like that, yes.”

“Welcome aboard, then. Let’s get you packed.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! The Spanish translations were done by aspiring-procrastinator on tumblr.

After they had left the Oregon port and were realizing that the Stan O War II wasn’t really big enough for four people, there was a news report over the radio about a massive explosion at the McGucket mansion.

Fiddleford’s knee refused to stop bouncing until Stan put a hand atop it.

“Who the hell was in charge of that!?” Ford burst out after Stan and Fiddleford explained that Fiddleford had been afraid the government would come after him after he refused to do something for them.

“What had they asked you to do?” Spitfire asked.

Fiddleford fidgeted, chewed his bottom lip.

“They - they somehow heard about a lot of the strange stuff that went on during Weirdmageddon. They … wanted me to somehow harness the power to … to turn it into a weapon. I … they said something about Jimmy, and … I just refused to do it. It didn’t feel right, and … I couldn’t.”

“Well, you’re safe now,” Stan said. “We’re not gonna let anybody get to you.”

Ford and Spitfire nodded in agreement.

They sold the Stan O War II and replaced it with a bigger boat in Canada. Its unofficial name was Stan O War III, but they felt like that would make it too obvious that Fiddleford was with them.

Stan smiled fondly as Ford painted the name Janice onto the side of the boat.

They took the boat more towards Greenland and Iceland, following the anomaly readings on Ford’s sci-fi gadgets, and Stan had made them all fake IDs, just in case they had to lie about who they were if the US government was snooping around.

“I remember when Jimmy made me one of these,” Spitfire laughed. “Only way I could get into the bars.”

Ford made a grumpy face; despite the man being dead now, his memory still lives on, much to his displeasure.

But he wasn’t really someone you could just forget.

In Greenland, they somehow ran into a very unexpected person.

“Holy shit, is that - ?” Stan started.

“Oh my god. Oh no, hide me,” Ford said, moving to sneak behind Spitfire.

“Esteban!”

The vampire turned his head, and vampires must not have been capable of blushing, but the fact he made certainly said he would be if he could.

“Stanley! Hola! ¿Qué haces tú aquí?”

“Todavía viajando alrededor del mundo con mi hermano.”

Esteban quickly darted his eyes about, looking for Ford.

Spitfire leaned back a bit.

“Did you attack him or something?”

“Maybe. All right, yes, I did, I hadn’t realized he was … Stanley’s _companionship_ for the evening, I thought he was attacking him first,” Ford explained.

Then he remembered that Fiddleford was right next to him.

“I - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s all right, Stanford, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but -”

“Well, Stanley and I aren’t together, anyway, so it doesn’t -”

Spitfire and Ford stared at him for a long moment. Then they looked over at Stanley, who was now conversing with Esteban in Spanish about … who knows, not Ford or Spitfire or Fiddleford. Then back at Fiddleford.

“You’re not?”

“But I thought -”

“At the bar -”

Fiddleford shook his head.

“I mean, we were gonna talk about it, but then … the day after was super busy, and then Dipper and Mabel left, and … and then the government stuff happened. And it just hasn’t come up yet. And he was really drunk, so I don’t think he really meant what he said -”

“Fiddleford, you have to make a move,” Ford said. “Stan is very … this time with us _will not be fun_ if you don’t.”

Stan and Esteban laughed about something, and there was some bidding of goodbyes, and off Esteban went.

Stan turned back to Ford, Spitfire, and Fiddleford and found that he was being stared at.

“What’s up with you three?”

“Nothing,” they all said together. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“So, uh, what did you two talk about?” Ford asked, stepping out from behind Spitfire.

“About how I wasn’t gonna let you try to shoot him again and how he was enjoying his vampire convention thing. That’s a thing they have apparently.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s good. Yes. Good.”

Stan laughed a bit.

“He’s also here with his wife and kid.”

“Oh! That’s nice.”

“Wait, vampires get married?” Spitfire asked.

“If they’re dead, how do they reproduce?” Fiddleford asked.

The topic changed naturally, and eventually they went back to sleep on the boat.

Ford was showing Spitfire some of his gadgetry and how it worked and how Spitfire should help with his calculations since Fiddleford needed to be concerned with another aspect about them entirely and Stan would be keeping the ship on course. Stan had cracked open a beer and was slowly sipping it. Fiddleford had a bottle of sarsaparilla.

Stan cleared his throat abruptly, and it made Fiddleford look over at him.

“I, uh, I have a confession to make,” Stan said.

“Yes?”

“So Esteban had asked if I was still open to sellin’ my blood to ‘im later, and I mighta kinda said that - heh, that, ah, my boyfriend likes my blood where it is. And, I, uh, I kinda meant you when I said that, but I know we’re not datin’ or nothin’, so if that … if that bothers you, I promise I won’t say that again, and I just … felt like I should tell you that I said that.”

Stan then took a long sip from his beer can.

Fiddleford stared at him for a moment, then blushed and looked down at his bottle.

“I don’t mind that none. You can say that if you want.”

Stan looked over at Fiddleford. Fiddleford avoided looking back at him for a while.

“I - I think I’d kinda like it if you kept sayin’ that,” Fiddleford continued.

“Aren’t you the guy who’s kinda against lying, though?” Stan asked.

“Is it lying?”

Fiddleford looked over at Stanley finally.

Stan was giving him a smirk.

“Well, I’d have to take you out on a proper date first. How ‘bout we go out to dinner at our next stop, just the two of us?”

“I think I’d like that.”

Fiddleford and Stan smiled at each other, then drank from their respective drinks.

Across the ocean and the United States, Mabel Pines had received a letter from Mermando saying that he was allowed to communicate with humans again.

Everything was back to normal, but not the same.

Until the next summer.


End file.
